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ORIGIML POEMS 



®OTdati0ns itm Bml^mMm mli oi^tx forts 



BY 



SOPHIA MILLIGAN 

V 



LONDON 

HURST AND BLACKETT 

13 GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET 
1856 



%^ 



TO 

THE REVEREND 
THOMAS VINCENT FOSBERY, M.A., 

THIS VOLUME 

IS 

GRATEFULLY AND AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED 

BY 

THE AUTHOR. 



PREFACE. 



The Original Poems in this volume, seem to require 
no explanation. V 

Of the Translations, some are of poems already- 
rendered into English, and well known. But my object 
has been to gather into one volume such specimens 
of the Poetry of the North and South, translated by 
myself, as might show those differences which spring 
fi-om diversity of race, temperament, and cHmate, and 
yet exhibit that unfailing bond of brotherhood, whereby 
the Poet-heart every where recognizes truth, and love, 
and the beautiful, and a higher life than ours is here ; 
in whatever voice such feelings may be expressed. 



Yl PREFACE. 

I do not of course hold myself responsible for all 
tlie opinions and sentiments which these translations 
contain, as I do for those expressed in my original 
poems, yet I have been doubly glad when poetry, which 
I admired for its other beauties, has contained pure 
religious feeling. The holy power of the true Faith is 
spreading widely, and will I trust more and more hallow 
all that pleases and instructs. No longer, like the fire 
of Vesta, is it confined to the altar of the Temple, but 
spreading as the radiance of the Sun over the world, 
it consecrates God's Universe to God, by letting us see 
all things in His light ! 

I am indebted for a few of the original poems, and 
many of the translations, to my mother ; and they are 
distinguished from the rest by her initials. 



ERRATA. 

In OUE SOLDIEES 

For " the wounded, maimed, and bravely, nobly 

dead" — p. 10, 
Read " the brave, and noble, wounded, maimed, 

and dead." 

In To THE Parents op Theodosia D. — 

For " she, scarcely striving, won the prize" — p. 118, 
Read " after brief toil she gained the prize." 

In King Bele and Thorsten Vikingsson — 

For " sitting in Havamal " — p. 175, 
Read " in the wise Havamal." 

For " Asa's sons" — p. 177, 
Read " Asa-sons." 

For " Fiorde "—p. 178, 
Read " Fiord." 

In Ingeborg's Lament — 

For " seeking the Fates beloved " — p. 181, 
Read " seeking her Mate beloved." 

In Valdemar the Great and his Men — 

For " she has the Nornen's brow" — p. 221, 
Read " she has the Norna-brow." 



INDEX TO ORIGINAL POEMS. 



The Worth of Eeauty 


1 


Angels' Visits 


6 


The Poet-heart . 


1 


The Midnight Sun 


9 


Our Soldiers 


10 


Fairy Land 


13 


Childhood's Flower 


20 


To the Skylark . 


23 


To E. C. H.— On his first going to Sea 


26 


The Little Maiden 


29 


The Lovely "Woman 


31 


'i'he Seasons 


33 


Maniac's Song 


36 


Homely Maidens 


37 


The Cloister Cell . 


39 


To Magdalen . . . , 


40 



INDEX. 



To an Infant 
The Mother 
Pilgrim Song 
Convent Lay- 
Evening 

Lines supposed to be Written by a Blind Lady 
A Mother Wakening her Child 
Memory and Hope 
To One Beloved and Revered 
Song of Emigrants on their Voyage Out. 
Traces of Time 
The Broken Heart 
Morning Hours 
First Vision 
Second Vision 
Spectres 
The Exile 
The Three Children 
To My Cousin Fanny 
Invocation 
To the Guilty 

The Deformed Transformed 
Martyrdom of St. Stephen 



INDEX. 3 

The Angel on Two Wings . . 104 

Indolence . . , . Ill 

One look, one look in Jesus' Face . , 114 

" He feedeth the Young Ravens that caU upon 

Him." . . . 116 

To the Parents of Theodosia D. . . 117 

Sitting at the Threshold . . . 119 

" Blessed art Thou among "Women." . . 123 

Fallen Angels . . .125 

The Soul's Rohing . . . 126 

" Depart from me, for I am a sinful man, O Lord." 129 
Praise . . . .131 

To after his Confirmation . . 133 

If thou hast been through Grace to life renewed 136 

Time weaves bright threads . , 1 36 

Green Leaves . . . .137 

Oh Fear not Grief . . . 137 

SONNETS. 



To Emma D. i. . . , 138 

To Emma D. ii. ... 139 

To the Memory of Charlotte C. . , 140 



INDEX. 



The Hours 


141 


Night 


142 


To Lucy M. . 


143 


A Scene 


144 


To Gertrude F. . 


145 


The Failing Senses 


146 


Nets . 


147 


The Two Portraits 


148 


Christ's Sepulchre 


149 


The Appeal 


150 


The Bride of Christ 


151 


The Lord's Prayer, i. 


152 


The Lord's Prayer, ii. 


153 


The Lord's Day, i. 


154 


The Lord's Day, il. 


155 



INDEX TO TRANSLATIONS. 



FROM TBE SWEDISH. 



Tegner 



. Frithiof and Ingeborg 159 
King Bele audThorsten 





Vikingsson . 


167 




Ingeborg's Lament 


179 


Anna Maria Lenngren 


. Boys 


182 




Castle and Cottage 


186 


Franzen 


. The Mother by the 






Cradle 


189 




God's Will be done ! . 


193 


Geijer 


. Death 


195 


Walljn 


. Sunday Morning 


197 


Frederika Bremer . 


. The Water Lily 


200 




Dying Song . 


204 




1 Thirst 


205 



FROM THE DANISH. 

Extracts from Valdemar the Great and his Men 207 

*Old Ballad . . .The Return of the Dead 229 

Oehlenschlager . . The Jeweller . . 234 



6 
HOLST 



INDEX TO TRANSLATIONS. 



When Closed are Mine 

Eyes 
O Fatherland, what 

hast thou Lost 
On the Coronation of 

King Christian 
Requiem 



239 

244 

245 
248 



FROM THE GERMAN, 



Burger 
Goethe 

Schiller 

Uhland 



KORNER 

Stolberg 



The Happy Lover 


250 


The Minstrel 


253 


Nearness of the Beloved 


256 


The Ideal 


258 


The Sharing of the Earth 


263 


The Return of the Poet 


266 


The Shepherd's Sunday 




Song 


268 


The Death-feeHng 


269 


The Castle by the Sea . 


270 


The Song of the Moun- 




tain Boy . 


273 


The Serenade 


275 


Gossamer 


276 


Praise of the Spring . 


277 


Words of an Old Man . 


278 


Prayer Dui^ing the Battle 


279 


Tell's Chapel 


282 



INDEX TO TRANSLATIONS. 



Matthisson 


, 


. Love's Magic 


. 284 


Salis 


. 


. The Future Life 


. 285 


Anonymous 


. 


. Love 


. 287 


NOVALIS . 


• 


. Consolation . 


. 289 




FROM THE FRENCH. 




Clotilde de 


SURVILLE 


. To my First-born 


. 292 


Racine 


. 


. Chorus from Athalie 


. 296 


Lamartine 


. 


. "Dieu" 


. 297 






Hymn to Grief . 


. 299 



FROM THE ITALIAN. 



Tasso 
Petrarch 



Alfieri 
Machiavelli 



. The Death of Clorinda . 303 
. Before the Death of 

Laura — Sonnet clxxxiv 307 

After the Death of 

Laura — Sonnet ii. . 308 

„ xviii. . 309 

„ xxi. . 310 

„ xxiv. . 311 

„ xxxiv. . 312 

„ xliv, . 313 

„ Ixxxv. . 314 

„ Ixxxvi . 315 

. To the Chamber of 

Petrarch . 316 

. Opportunity . . 317 



INDEX TO TRANSLATIONS. 



Tansillo 


. Sonnet Composed during 






an Acute Illness 


319 


FiLICAJA 


. Remorse 


320 


Manara 


. The Tomb of Charle- 






magne 


321 


Adele Curti . 


. Song of the Gipsy 


322 


Bertola . 


. Black Eves and Blue . 


326 



FROM THE SPANISH 

Melendez Valdes . . Flowers . . 328 

Lupercio de Argensola . Sonnet on Deliverance 

from a Violent Death 333 
/ 
Bartolomlde Argensola. Father of All, Sonnet 334 

FROM THE PORTUGUESE. 

Camoens .... Before the Death of 

Catharina de Ataide, 

Sonnet xxxiv. . 335 

,, XXXV. . 336 

„ xc. . . 337 

After her Death, Sonnet 

clxxxvi. . . 338 



POEMS. 



THE WORTH OF BEAUTY. 



Fonnosos olhos, que cuidado dais 

A mesma luz do sol mais clara e pura ; 

Que sua esclarecida formosura 

Com tanta gloria vossa, atraz deixais ; 

Camoens. 
Poets call the sun less bright 
Than their lady's eyes of light ; 
And her golden hair, they say, 
Hath more radiance than the day ; 
While the moon, for envy pale, 
Makes of vapoury clouds a veil. 



THE WORTH OF BEAUTY. 

But they own, a little dust 
Is all this in which they trust, 
Like the earth on which they tread. 
Which shall o'er these glories spread. 
Yet let none disdain the grace 
Lent unto each lovely face — 
It may be, the sun less bright 
Is than mortal orbs of light ; 
"When the soul with living ray 
Dawns to a more glorious day, 
And the mansion of the soul 
Cannot its high guest control. 
Every look and gesture tells 
What the thing that in it dwells — 
Whether breathing with the breath 
Of life divine, or guilty death ! 

Yet, alas ! e'en while I speak. 
Dimples of a downy cheek, 
Smiles on lip of faultless cm-ve, 
Make the sober judgment swerve ! 



THE WORTH OF BEAUTY. 

Little feeling goes so far 

In eyes clear as midnight star ; 

Little pity much appears 

When they lucid shine thro' tears ; 

Little wit can much inspire 

When red lips fan hright the fire ; 

How refined and pure a grace 

Li a perfect form we trace ! 

Tho' sometimes that charm is hroken 

By a slight and passing token, 

Telling us there dwells within 

That we should not care to win. 

Then, perhaps, a truer smile, 
From pure eyes eclipsed ere while, 
On our weary spirit throws 
Hallowed nature's soft repose. 
Ah ! when mind and matter meet 
In an equal union sweet, 
Purified from worldly dross, 
For sceptre, bearing daUy cross, 



THE WOETH OF BEAUTY. 

Then indeed is beauty bright 
With a pure celestial light. 
Poet ! then the garment praise, 
Fitted to its wearer's ways, 
But soul-less beauty never trust. 
It- must render dust to dust. 

If too, on some form uncouth 
Thou hast looked, where never youth 
"With sweet grace in playful guise 
Flashed thro' arch and happy eyes ; 
A form that seemed from birth decreed 
To wear, for joy, the widow's weed ; 
To every work-day use a prey, 
But aU unmeet for holiday, — 
Look ! Poet, look on her again ; 
If her calm eyes do not complain. 
If her voice yield no selfish moan. 
Thus without love a wanderer lone, 
And if her homely smile reveal 
A heart that others' joy can feel ; 



THE WOETH OF BEAUTY. 

If the coarse hands, not soft nor white, 
Neglect with kindness still requite ; 
If, while her form to earth is bowed. 
Her eyes -see heaven without a cloud, 
And all her hope, her joy, her love, 
Are lent her from the world above, — 
Then think what dwells within the breast. 
What's hidden by so rude a vest,— 
The form thou deem'st of all most fair, 
With that veiled soul cannot compare ; 
And even through the veil will shine 
Some glory of a light divine ! 



.ANGEL'S VISITS. 



An angel's fleeting visit brings 

To men too short a bliss ; 
Scarce fanned by waving of their wings, 

Ere the brief joy we miss ! 

Yet oft, an atmosphere of light 
Lingers where they have been ; 

Dew is more clear, the flowers more bright, 
The earth more freshly green ; 

The voices of the loved more sweet, 
Their smile more soft and kind ; 

Oh Angels ! the' your wings are fleet, 
Ye leave a trace behind ! 



THE POET-HEART. 



Unto some men may, belong 
The Poet-heart without the tongue ; 
Let those never, pining, grieve, 
Who both gifts do not receive ; 
Dear is that which they obtain, 
It hath not been given in vain ! 
They in every homely duty 
See a sweet ideal beauty. 
Making home itself more dear, 
More so with each passing year. 
The purple violet sweeter blows 
And ftdler perfume breathes the rose, 
All things hidden depths revealing 
To the tender Poet-feeling. 
Each ray of sunny light they prize, 
As coming from the holy sMes ; 



THE POET-HEAET. 

Whether on Palace tower it shine, 
Or tremhle on the cottage vine ; 
Whether it sUver-edge the cloud 
Whence roll the peals of thunder loud, 
Or dye with gold those fleeces white 
Bordering calm sides ere fall of night. 

Yet if these would touch the string 
Of heavenly harp, and upward wing 
Sun-kindled thoughts, whose thrilling tone 
All hearts should echo as their own — 
Faltering, confused, the notes expire, 
The weak hand, sinking, drops the lyre ! 
Almost they catch those sweetest Bounds, 
The star-song heard beyond earth's hounds, 
Almost give back the dying fall, 
But the almost — loses all ! 



THE MIDNIGHT SUN. 



In crimson splendour rests the Midnight Sun, 
And Nature pauses, now his race hath run. 
Earth needs no dusky veil to give repose, 
Creation the Creator's fiat knows. 
Still are the rippling wave and snowy surf. 
The Deer is sleeping on the lichened turf, 
The Wildfowl nestle on the lake's fair breast 
In reedy homes ; clouds on their progress rest. 
More awful now the Midnight Noon in light. 
Than is the darkest time of darkest night ; 
Not linked to fantasies of spectral hour, 
But imaging Almighty, wakeful Power. — 
Brief is the pause — the Sun no longer stays 
His upward course, hut slow resumes his rays ; 
Softly the light of new-horn day comes forth, 
And gives to earth the morning of the North. 



10 



OUR SOLDIERS. 



Weep for our Soldiers bright and hallowed tears ! ' 

The wounded, maimed, the bravely, nobly dead ! 

No drops of hopeless grief for them be shed ; 

No gloomy pall upon their memory spread. 

Blest be each thought of them through future years ! 

Weep for our Soldiers bright and hallowed tears ! 

Day after day they bore the hardest lot ; 
Night after night they braved impending death : 
They toiled and suffered to their latest breath, 
E'en when most doubtftd of victorious wreath : 
Let England's tears then consecrate the spot 
Where lie her heroes : be it ne'er forgot ! 



OUR SOLDIEES. 11 

Yet shed no bitter, no repining tears 1 • 

What though some loved one rests in unmarked grave, 

His glory with his country lives ; to save 

His country's honour he his best blood gave. 

When we " our Soldiers " praise, his name appears : 

Weep for our Soldiers bright and hallowed tears I 

It was not courage only — ^patience more 

Ennobling, under unexampled woes : 

Not only the brave rush upon our foes 

When throbs the heart, and warm the life-blood flows, 

But the calm patience that all misery bore. 

Endurance firm and strong when hope was o'er. 

Their torturing anguish wrung from them no cries ; 
Worn with fatigue, disease, and want of food, 
They suffered with heroic fortitude ; 
Not in the stoic's hard and scornful mood, 
But patient, seeking with deep earnest eyes 
Through God's own servants all his grace suppHes. 



12 OnB SOLDIERS. 

And some had always, mid all dangers, deemed 
Their Grod a shield, a fortress, ever near ; 
To Him committed all that they held dear. 
And their own souls, before Him to appear 
Whenever summoned, as by Christ redeemed, 
To live in endless joy, by man undreamed. 

Weq) for our Soldiers bright and hallowed tears ! 
All own how noble low-bom men may be : — 
Bretlnren of all degrees ! seek unity 
In love's true peace and blessed charity. 
The rainbow on the thunder- cloud appears : — 
Weep for our Soldiers bright and hallowed tears ! 



13 



FAIRY LAND. 



I wandered once from human things afar. 

Led by no Angel, guided by no star ; — 

From the dense living masses of the crowd 

Beneath their daily labour ever bowed ; 

From life, from love, from truth, from light of day. 

From science, conflict, energy away ! 

Till at the last I left the world of men, 

And Fairy-land received the stranger then. 

There was I welcomed, and with courteous grace 
The Fairies gave me honourable place. • 

I saw their splendid court ; the lofty towers, 
The palaces, the gardens and the bowers. 



14 FAIRY LAND. 

Through the vast halls a dazzling radiance spread, 

From magic lamps on midnight revels shed. 

How fair the dames and maidens'! oh how bright 

Seemed all I viewed by that delusive light ! 

Serene, cahn converse, in low silver tone 

Floated around, nor one o'er others shone ; 

No wit nor wisdom jarred on their repose. 

No rash emotion in their bosoms rose. 

So sweet, so calmly cold, so unimprest 

"With aught distinctive is a Fairy's breast ; 

Unless when they, fantastic, wayward, wild, 

Ape, in their eldrich mirth, the gay pranks of a child. 

Oh ! there was something phantom-like, to scare 

My human heart, which still was throbbing there, 

And felt instinctively that, all around, 

No other heart beat in the enchanted bound. 

Yet softly smiled the Fairy Ladies all, 

An& melting music floated through the hall. 

The Fairy Knights held exquisite controul 

O'er the slight essence which they call their soul ; 



FAIBY LAND. 15 

They never set it free to rouse and stir, 
For aught that love or honour might confer, 
For any pangs that mortal men endure, 
Wliile in their spell-bound realm they rest secure. 
If thousands perish round them in the snow, 
They only see their own fires' genial glow ; 
For want of food if thousands roimd them die, 
They only see their tables' rich supply ; 
They know how mortals grieve for little pain, 
Nor would disturb their soft repose in vain. 

As to God's children the whole earth is given, 
AU is their country, since embraced by Heaven ; 
All are their countrjrmen, since brethren all 
Who on the one Almighty Father call ; 
So in the adverse sense, on every strand 
The Fairy-people find their Fairy-land : 
Yet, by strange magic, it is never near 
To aught that Patriots strive for and hold dear : 
No matter mid what nation they are found, 
The Fairies dwell upon enchanted ground. 



16 FAIRY LAND. 

Wherever sacred ties prove frail as thread 
And holy precepts may be backward read, 
Where right is wrong, and wrong appears as right, 
And night is day, and day is turned to night, 
And things of worth in mystic shadows lie. 
And worthless things are glorious to the eye. 
And nothing is held dear but empty sport, 
There thrives at once the Fairies' phantom court. 

There are ignored despair and agony, 

And all that swells creation's groaning cry. 

How can the Fairy beings share or know 

Our mortal guilt, our mortal shame and woe? 

Why should they seek to help and heal distress 

When their enjoyments never can be less, 

And what reverse can touch ethereal forms, 

Secure from want, and sheltered fr-om all storms ? 

Is this their time of proving, and of strife 

To win the glories of eternal life? 

Poor phantoms that to earth alone have claim, 

Why should we mock them with heaven's blessed name 



FAIRY LAND. 17 

Nay ! let them banish thoughts of heaven or hell, 
And all their hours in careless pleasure dwell; 
Feasting and dancing, till the light of day 
Scare them and all delusive shapes away-^ 
Though the next midnight brings them back again, 
Where wiU they be when endless day shall reign? 

While, yet amid them, magic languor stole 

O'er every sense, and half subdued my soul, 

While, slow and slower beating, seemed my heart 

To lose vitality, and I a part 

With those around me almost could accept, 

At once that heart with noble impulse leapt. 

For I remembered aU I left behind 

Ere holding commune with the Fairy mind ; 

Thought of the sweetness of a mortal's lot 

Where love exists, whatever else does not. 

That blessed boon which makes e'en suffering dear, 

O'ercoming every doubt and every fear; 

Love unto man, and to the Power above, 

Who only teaches us indeed to love. 



18 ' FAIRY LAND. 

Though want and misery on the earth are found. 
Still Angels tread upon God's hallowed ground, 
The missioned ones who in his temples pray, 
Visit his poor, and wipe sad tears away; 
With patient courage his commands fulfil. 
And strive with good to overcome all ill : 
No matter if from palace or from cot 
These Angels come, if high or low their lot, 
With us they own a dear and kindred blood, 
Patriots with us on common soil have stood, 
With us look on to destiny more high 
Than aught but man may hope beneath the sky : - 
Children of God, and brethren of their race. 
That Brother's footprints upon earth they trace 
Who freed the captive, healed the broken heart, — 
Of Him, of His, I thought, and roused me to depart 
Ere magic spells should every power suspend, 
While yet I knew I lived, and to what end, 
I left the boundaries of the enchanted plain, 
And breathed among my fellow-men agaiu. 
As man once more upon God's earth I tread. 



FAIEY LAND. 19 

And see the holy heavens overhead ; 
Nor cast one glance of fond regret behind, 
Nor keep one spell of Fairy-land in mind. 
Bright was the scene I left, but oh how burned 
My soul for greater things as thence I turned ! 
What could I miss ? What fault or failure scan ? 
I missed the throbbing, suffering heart of man ; 
The might of mental pain; the pangs sublime 
Of immortality at strife with time ; 
And all the yearnings of the spirit, pent 
In clay, to rise to the Omnipotent, 

Fairy-land ! though bright thy fragrant bowers, 
I value more the green earth's simplest flowers ; 
Mid all that seemed to soften and refine, 
I missed at once the human and divine ! 



20 



CHILDHOOD'S FLOWER. 



Let me my chosen guerdon praiae, 
Her golden disk and silver rays ; 
What the' upon my temples shine 
No laurel, be the daisy mine ! 
May childhood's pleasures spring to sight 
As often as her flowrets white, 
May childhood's chaplet still arou»d 
A calm tho' faded brow be bound. 
Unharmed as harmless, fresh pure dew 
She drinks from clouds of darkest hue. 
And winds that war in fiercest strife 
Invigorate her hardy life, 



childhood's flower. 21 

While rests her little humble head 
In safety on its grassy bed. 
Upon the earth she lowly lies, 
Looking upward at the skies, 
Yet " Day's eye" in time of yore 
Was the noble name she bore : 
But language now too lightly trips 
From voluble and careless lips. 
And skilful gardeners only prize 
The plants that by their culture rise. 
And ladies scarcely deign to greet, 
E'en as a carpet for their feet, 
The floral peasant maids who bear 
No perfume on their bosoms fair, 
But the freshness of the air. 



The child alone, whose simple mind 
By worldly bonds is unconfined, 
Loves more the gift thus flung around, 
A common plaything on the ground, 



22 childhood's flower. 

Than if it came from India's bowers, 

The fairest of exotic flowers. 

Yes, vagrant childhood, checked and chidden 

The lily and the rose forbidden. 

In wreaths of daisies takes such pleasure 

As Fashion's world must fail to measure. 

And, from man's precincts rudely torn, 

They are by lovely Nature worn 

As showers of stars on verdure bright, 

More numerous than the lamps of night. 

Oh, Fashion's world, how different thou 

From God's Creation, even now ; 

The blooming earth, the radiant skies. 

Our fair, tho' fallen Paradise ! 

When thence by Death's strong angel driven 

Not ours a wilderness, but Heaven, 

A Father's arms, a Father's smile ! 

Let us then ask that, free from guile. 

To us may children's hearts be given. 



23 



TO THE SKYLAEK. 



Yes ! 'tis no marvel thy impulsive notes 

Ecstatic burst, rich plains or wide wastes over ; 

As thou didst need a thousand warbling throats 
The joy that fills thy being to discover ; 

What heed giv'st thou if mead or desert lie 

Beneath ? thyself, thy song, is in the sky ! 

Thou from all else in upward flight didst part, 
Striving away from earth in ceaseless soaring, 

And to the time of thy warm throbbing heart 
The notes of joyful freedom ever pouring, 

Filling the air with undimmed happiness, 

Heard by so many, that so few possess. 



24 TO THE SKYLARK. 

Nor vainly beating buoyant air with wings 
That stir around the song and sunshine blended, 

Each pinion-stroke sustains the voice that sings 
Where by glad energy it has ascended : 

Sunlight surrounds, sunlight inspires thy song, 

Frail as thou art on earth, in heaven how strong. 

Ah, could the poet, who so longs to cast 
All sweetness on the air, in language found. 

And dare the darkest storm, the keenest blast, 
To shed its dew upon the world's dry ground, 

Ah, could he lift his heart as high as thine. 

And all support save that of heaven resign ! 

Let him but strive in God's own light to pour 
His heart-notes clear as unto thee 'tis given, 

Thus in the vital air uplifted soar 

Above the earth, and ever nearer Heaven ; 

If but an hour he thus could mount the sky, 

Forsaking all below, what were his melody ! 



TO THE SKYLARK. 26 

And yet thy earthly form is where we gaze, 
But gaze not long, bedazzled, and half blind ; 

Full in the central warmth of sunny rays 
That little form, by ether blue refined, 

Seems but a speck just visible in air, 

As if thy voice alone were living there. 

As thou hast risen, so must thou sink again, 
Drawn down by earthly needs and sympathies, 

And, even above, dost in that light retain 
All harmless, pure-created tendencies ; 

So mortals may, who half to earth belong 

Join earth with heaven in pure immortal song : 

Fulfil their destiny above, below, 

Nor scorn the homely needs and claims of Time, 
Meek at the ebb, if joyful at the flow 

Of melody too sweet for earthly clime. 
And to the common tones of common things 
Lend music as of those who still have wings ! 



26 



TO E. C. H.— ON HIS FIRST GOING TO SEA. 



Farewell, dearest Boy ! to thy sea-beaten home 
We must let thee depart, o'er the wild waves to roam. 
Yet to heart-warm affection returning again, 
Unchanged as our memory, may'st thou remain ! 
May the candour of childhood still brighten thy brow, 
May thy smile be as joyous and tender as now. 
May thy gaze be as steadfast in honour and truth, 
Never flinching from duty, tho' melting in ruth. 
Farewell ! serve thy Queen and thy country with zeal. 
With the loyal devotion each Briton should feel. 
Yet think to whose service thy first pledge v/as given. 
To One whose liigh throne is exalted in Heaven. 
Thou art bought with His blood, thou art marked with 

His name, 
For thee was the Cross, and for thee was the shame ; 
Then never prove false, never shrink from His face, — 
To desert His bright standard were cowardly base. 



TO E. C. H. 27 

But if thy frail nature should shrink from His side 

"Who counted no cost when for rebels he died, 

If the scorn of the world for a moment appal thee, 

And its mean laugh of mockery suddenly gaU thee. 

Or the tumult of pleasure bewUder thy sense 

Till thou weigh not the act that to Him is offence, 

Oh ! heed the first whisper that bids thee return 

To the friend who thy trespass will tenderly mourn. 

He sees the fuU radiance of Heaven from his throne. 

Love glory and pleasure are there, there alone, 

And He looks on the Earth, which to thee is so fair, 

As a footstool scarce worthy His sandal to bear, 

Yet hears the low murmur of penitent prayer. 

Seek comrades in arms for the Holy and True, 

Such brotherly bond will thy courage renew. 

For there never were warriors, on land or on wave. 

Like the followers of Him who is mighty to save. 

They cannot turn back, they have chosen their parts, 

With one name on their lips and one love in their hearts, 

The helm of Salvation sheds light on their brows. 

The sword of the Spirit transfixes their foes, 



28 TO E. C. H. 

And the broad shield of Faith as a mirror reflects 
The form of that Chief who no suppliant rejects. 
He leads on their troops. He directs all their powers, 
From the North's frozen realms, j&:om the South's perfumed 

bowers, 
From the East and the "West, in this wide world of ours, 
He gathers His army, they come at His word, 
A conquering band on the battle-field poured : 
As borne on the pinions of eagles they speed, 
They faint not for weariness, sink not for need. 
They brave tempest and shipwreck His truth to proclaim, 
They pass scathless and free through devoiuing flame. 
In their weakness is strength, they wax valiant in fight, 
And the Hosts of the aliens are scattered in flight, 
And swept to the borders of Chaos and Night. 
Be now, as of old, to their Captain the fame. 
And for ever : His soldiers are called by His name. 
To Him be all conquests, all glory restored. 
They are Victors alone by the arm of their Lord ! 



m 



THE LITTLE MAIDE:^. 



Come hither, child, and I will try 

To sketch thy portrait faithfully. 

Ere thy ninth summer sun shine bright 

On chesnut locks and forehead white. 

A brow more clear, serene and fair. 

Could little maiden never wear. 

Beneath it, eyes of chesnut hue 

Look sweet, and bright, and kindly true 

Thy classic outline, pure yet soft, 

I gaze on fondly oft and oft : 

No mouth hath sweeter form than this. 

No lips are pleasanter to kiss : 

Thy dimpled cheek, thy pretty chin — 

Where shall I end when I begin 



30 THE LITTLE MAIDEN, 

To count thy charms — ^the colour bright, 
The little form so trim and light. 
Yet, if I live to see thee grow 
Less fair, when mine are locks of snow, 
Shall I indeed then love thee less ? 
Thou hast a pure soul's loveliness, — 
My little Maiden, it were strange 
If I to thee could ever change ! 



31 



THE LOVELY WOMAN. 



I care not if her eyes be grey, 

Or green, or brown, or blue, 
Or if her mouth be wide — ^it may. 

But all her smiles are true. 
What if her nose, a thought deprest, 

Be not like Greek or Homan, 
Yet I protest, let who will jest, 

Kate is a lovely woman! 

A face as fresh, and gay, and fair 

As maiden's e'er can be, 
With neatly twined and braided hair 

One may rejoice to see. 



THE LOVELY WOMAN. 

A fsLCe that has a pleasant smile, 
Now beaming, arch and joyous, 

Now thoughtfolj being all the while 
Pure nature, can it cloy us? 

A face unsoured by frowning care, 

Her duty her delight, 
And — contradict me if you dare — 

Man needs no lovelier sight. 
Yes ! laugh at me with laughter's zest. 

As sui'e as I'm a true man, 
I still protest, let who will jest, 

Kate is a lovely woman ! 

She sings about her daily task 

TiU the old house is glad. 
Her kind heart needs and wears no mask. 

Her mirth makes no one sad. 
She's something sweet, she's something blest, 

Angelic and yet human. 
And I protest, let who will jest, 

That Kate's a lovely woman ! 



33 



THE SEASONS. 



First came the Spring, sweet frolic in her eyes, 
Brighter for tears that she no more remembered : 
A fitful sunshine playing in her hair 
Which in loose ringlets caught the golden gleams ; 
Girdled by yellow, white, and purple buds. 
She beckoned on her mates, who followed her 
In order due. The rose-flushed Summer stepped 
Gently and slow, and from her rich embrace 
That held a wealth of flowers, she dropped around 
Their tender blossoms, scenting all the air. 
But withering on the track that lay behind her. 
Her brow was sunny fair, a bright-lipped smile 
Breaking like morning's radiance the repose 
Of her soft features — with a loitering grace 



34 THE SEASONS. 

She bore her flowery burden, and caressed 
With dewy fingers all the leaves and flowers. 
Autumn, with matron veil and stately bearing 
Followed : in ample folds her russet robe 
Flowed round her, rich with gold and ruby hues. 
Ripe ears of com made her a golden sceptre. 
Calm, calm were lip and brow : a deep content 
Was in her eyes ; her voice was soft and whispering 
When she to Summer spoke ; but unto Winter 
Louder and deeper toned, although not harsh. 
He smiled to her — a hale and stalwart man — 
White locks, a withered cheek, betokened age, 
But his loud shout was heard from hill to Mil ; 
Clear was his eye, tho' sometimes angry clouds 
Would dim it for a time. Well laden was he 
With many an implement of art's long toil. 
And oft he read in books as on he went. 
About these Seasons four the light hours played ; 
They came and went, — half of the fleeting train 
Dark veiled and starry crowned ; half robed in white, 
With golden locks free floatmg loosely round. 



THE SEASONS. 35 

The airy moments, scarcely visible, 
So swift their flight, on small transparent wings 
Took colour from the atmosphere, in shades 
And lights unnumbered. 



MANIAC'S SONG. 



Sun ! veil thy glaring light, 
Wrap me in shades, Oh Night ! 

Sadly I wander, for Love is no more. 

Colder than Winter's snow, 
Friends, once so tender, grow, 

No one now loves me, for Love is no more. 

Father and Mother's heart 
Harden — none take my part — 

Ah ! who can love me, now Love is no more. 

Courage is failing me. 
Welcome would slumher be. 

Yes ! the death-slumber, now Love is no more. 

Kind Death, I feel thee now. 
Cooling my burning brow, 

Thou art my only Friend — ^Love is no more ! 



37 



HOMELY MAIDENS. 



*' It is for homely features to keep home, 
They have their name thence.'*— Comus. 

Homely maidens, ne'er repine 
That ye are not called divine ; 
For God's likeness ye may bear, 
E'en as those esteemed most fair. 
Your eyes can take in all Heaven's blue 
Like those that emulate its hue ; 
Your lips can speak as kind a word 
As e'er from- those more rosy heard ; 
Ye may obtain as sweet a praise 
As e'er did Beauty's colour raise ; 
For 'tis the praise of worth alone 
That echoes in the heart's pure tone ; 



HOMELY MAIDENS. 

And sMning in each homely face 

May be a far diviner grace 

Than was in heathen times admired, 

When Helen her great Bard inspired. 

Oh ! homely faces, if from home 

Ye have your name, how dear a doom 

There bids your smiles become its light, 

Than all the world bestows more bright ! 

And if, in every act and will, 

God's pm'poses you would fulfil 

Till your soul blend with the divine 

And e'en the earthly form refine, 

Need you, homely maids, repine ? 



39 



THE CLOISTER CELL. 



Mine be a yielded, silent will, 

A resting, trusting heart, 
Whose inward life flows calm and stil!, 

. From busy crowds apart. 
Upon the lip responding smiles, 

Kind words, sweet songs for others, 
Waiting that home where we exiles 

Shall live and love as brothers : 
But in the heart — which all must fail 

Save God throughout to trace, 
Whose feelings lie behind the veil 

Of a calm, tranquil face ; 
Where the soul's dearest wishes dwell 

In their unseen abode — 
But in the heart's lone cloister- cell 

Be solitude with God I 



40 



TO MAGDALEN. 



Sweet Magdalen, fairest Magdalen ! 

Dost thou revive that ancient name again, 

Of her whose tears once washed the Saviour's feet ? 

She bore a weight of sorrow not unmeet, 

Thou by no humbling agony art bent, 

In nought resemblest thou that Penitent. 

Thy clear untroubled gaze dares meet all eyes, 

Serene and open as the cloudless sMes ; 

Thy lip hath laughter's loveliness, — thus flow 

The rippling waters o'er calm depths below. 

Fair Magdalen ! no shadow veils thy brow ; 

Yet low as hers bend down thy forehead calm, 

Radiant with fearless maiden purity. 

Pour gratitude as ointment's fragrant balm 

On those dear feet once nailed to the tree — 



TO MAGDALEN. 41 

She knew not all His love — thou knowest He died 

for thee ! 
Nor wanting be thy tears, in genial shower, 
Thus prostrated, from melting heart distilled, 
In joy of pardoned penitence ; His power, 
Whose love eternal that poor heart hath filled, 
Adoring in prayer's lonely, sacred hour. 
Who in God's light is pure ! or who shall measure 
The offences cancelled by His sovereign grace, 
And say, " For me was spent less precious treasure 
Than needed was for yonder sinner base ?" 
Thou'rt bought as surely by His love divine, 
As if the sins of the whole world were thine. 



42 



TO AN INFANT. 



Scarce I know how now thou seemest, 

And far less of what thou dreamest, 

Little flower, whose soft blooms close 

In such sweet and full repose ! 

Who can guess the Rose's heart 

Ere summer sun its petals part, 

Or know how rich may prove its dyes, 

How fragrant may its perfume rise ? 

Be love thy blessed summer sun, 

And shine until thy days are done ; 

From Heaven its rays, — earth's atmosphere 

But makes its light to men appear, 

E'en when it seems declining low, 

For then with yet a brighter glow 

On mists and clouds of passing sorrow 

Its light foretells Heaven's glorious morrow. 



TO AN INT ANT. 43 

When I saw thee last, serene 

With a perfect calm, thy mien 

Shewed no trace of an emotion. 

Woman's deep and fond devotion 

To the objects best beloved 

Slept unconscious and unproved ; 

Yet how touching and how fair 

Helpless innocence lay there, 

Of hallowed sweetness more reveaKng 

Than dwells with strong impetuous feeling. 

Love in all around inspiring, 

Though none yet thyself desiring, 

So placid in thy calm content 

To thee unearthly peace seemed lent, 

One might have thought a Dove's bright wing 

Thy meek head was covering. 

And well we know whose holy power 

Guards us. from first to latest hour. 

If childhke underneath His wing 

We shrink not from its fostering. 



44 TO. AN INFANT. 

Thou hast numbered since thy birth, 

Recent comer unto earth, 

Days and weeks full easy told, 

Thine age the primal age of gold ; 

And of good or evil nought 

Unto thee by man is taught. 

For like Eve in Paradise, 

Thou art yet more blest than wise ; 

But though through every future year 

All finite hope be blent with fear, 

Most blest thou art that when to thee 

Unfolds our mortal destiny, 

The sin, the sorrow and the strife 

Entwined with every dying life, 

To thee shall also be unfurled 

The standard that redeems the world, 

To thee shall also be made known 

Thy Saviour on a Conqueror's Throne ! 



45 



THE MOTHEK. 



Over her child she bends, her cheek rests on him, 

On his fair head as quietly he stands — 

What tenderness of attitude, so simple, 

So still, and yet expressing more than words ! 

No strongly twined embrace, no passionate movement. 

But closely clinging, softly touching him, 

As though her soul with his then held communion 

Deeper and purer than mere speech can utter ! 



46 



PILGRBI SONG. 



I know of Love — ^its sorrow, 
I know of Hope — ^its fear, 
I know of Joy-^to -morrow ! 
I seek a liome — ^not here ! 

Above, and yet above, 
Higher than thought can soar, 
A home of Joy and Love, 
Where Hope shall be no more. 



47 



CONVENT LAY. 



Across the bright blue sky 
Float lovely lingering clouds ; 

Their forms oft change on high 
From Angel-wings to shrouds! 

On distant gleaming sea 
Their shadows chequer light. 

But all is gloom in me, 
My shroud brings early night. 

Soft waving shadows fly 
Over the bending grass, 

Oh that each thought and sigh 
Leaving no trace might pass ! 



48 CONVENT LAY. 

These from my convent cell 
I look on, and am sad ; 

I never more may dwell 

Where aught can make me glad. 

The free winds sweep the grass 
The free clouds shade the sea ; 

Alas for me, alas ! 
Who holt on what is free ! 



49 



EVENING. 



Evening comes ! the veil of night 
Rests upon her lovely brow. 

And its folds descend — the bright 
Flushing cheek is hidden now, 

Night enwraps her : while a crown 
Formed of stars wiU sadly fail 

To console for going down 

Of day's radiance : ah how pale 
Is the nun within her veil ! 



50 



LINES SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY A 
BLIND LADY. 



When last I looked uiDon the earth, 

It wore a mantle green, 
Tints of young leaves and opening flowers 

Were blending o'er the scene ; 
The tranquil sea reflected hack 

The azure of the skies. 
And harks with snowy sails appeared 

Like floating butterflies. 

But not a moment of my grief 

Was by the view beguiled, 
Which still went on increasing more 

As all around me smiled : 



LINES BY A BLIND LADY. 51 

It seemed so hard that Fate should now 

My life from vision sever, 
That I should look on the fair Spring, 

And close mine eyes for ever ; 

That signs of promise, life, and joy 

Should meet me everywhere. 
While yet I knew that all my thoughts 

Were leading to Despair. 
And I believed I should have felt 

Less sad mine early doom, 
If earth and sea had shrouded been 

In winter's dreary gloom. 

Then Blindness came, and Hope unknown. 

Which lingered in my breast, 
Departed, and my soul was left 

In moumfalness and rest. 
But soon I found within my heart 

That new-bom feeling rose. 
And happiness, from the Unseen, 

Beyond what sight bestows. 



52 



A MOTHER WAKENING HER CHILD. 



Wake ! my child, I come to seek 
In thine eyes their day- dawn meek ; 
Wake ! my child, I come to say 
" Greet another holiday !" 
So, indeed, thy days are all, 
White and holy may they fall 
In light from Heaven on thy road 
To an ever blest abode : 
Free from servile labour — free 
From all sinftil misery. 
Doing but God's holy will 
As thine own, — thine own fulfil. 

Atom of the frailest clay 
With a soul to last for aye, 
Heavenly fire in earthly shrine, 



A MOTHER WAKENING HEE CHILD. 53 

God's thou art, — ^yet, in Him, mine ; 

Underneath each pure white lid 

Deep blue eyes are lying hid ; 

Thus in Spring time falling snow 

Might cover violets, bright below. 

I speak softly, and he hears not, 

Sleep the low-breathed whisper fears not : 

While I call him to awaken. 

Scarce I wish the rest forsaken 

That in peace so perfect holds 

The soft image it enfolds. 

Yet we to restless life must give 

FuU half our time, and learn to live, 

Tho' grief should mar our waking hours 

Eather than lose in sleep our powers. 

And each day for thee must win 

Knowledge — thou dost drink it in ! 

AH thy steps on lawn or floor 

Re^ons new for thee explore ; 

livery word thy tongue can frame 

Of some wonder is the name. 



54 A MOTHEE WAKENING HER CHILD. 

Or, from soul to soul, communion 
Opens, for love's mystic union. 
How thou hang'st on every word 
From a fellow creature heard ; 
How thy boundless thirst to know 
Ever questions high and low ; 
How thou vainly striv'st to utter 
Thoughts in broken words that flutter, 
All in wished for communing. 
Thine infant soul with ours to bring !' 

And we are all but infant souls 
While far from God this planet rolls^ 
Like children we ask question high. 
To which no sage can make reply ; 
But when we to our Father go 
And see Him — ^we shall aU things know. 
My child— ah ! then no more my child 
An equal Angel, strong and mild. 
Saint, friend for ever thou may^st be, 
But Mother's son no more to me I 



A MOTHEE WAKENING HEE CHILD. 55 

Sweetly the earthly instinct thrills 
My breast, and all my being fills ; 
It seems as though no other love 
Could sweeter, fonder, purer prove ; 
But He who gave such feelings here 
Can give us others yet more dear. 
The mother may forget her son, 
God of his own forgets not one, 
And when we see Him as He is, 
Our love will be as piu-e as His, 
In Him to live, and move, and be, 
Is happiest Infinity ! 

But, while I linger and delay, 
With silent step comes on the day ; 
How many thoughts, my Babe, arise 
From thy small couch toward the skies, 
And when I turn from Heaven to thee 
I turn not far away ! — But see. 
See, he wakens ! on the flush 
Of his cheek dark lashes brush 



56 A MOTHER WAKENING HER CHILD. 

Fanning it to brighter glow — 
Ah ! if I could paint him so ! 
Round his mouth is hovering 
A smile, not yet discovering 
If he wills to sleep or wake — 
Waken, babe, for Mother's sake ! 

Has he dreamt an Angel's kiss 
Wooed him imto heavenly bliss ? 
See, the smile more lovely grows 
While again his eyelids close. 
Shutting out all worldly sight 
For a tision of delight. 
Yes ! could he the forms behold 
Bearing heavenly harps of gold, 
Who their rapt and loving gaze 
Fix upon the one they praise — 
Yes ! if he could hear what tones 
Spread in ever widening zones 
From the central Unity 
Of infinite Divinity, 



A MOTHER WAKENING HEB CHILD. 57 

Where those choral Angels round 
Bow before the Throne, uncrowned — 
Then upon his mother's face 
Could his dazzled eyes e'er trace 
Her love, or to her human voice 
Leap his heart-pulse and rejoice ? 
That were wo — 
But not so 

Hath Omnipotence ordained, 
Heavenly harp-strings are not strained. 
To the lowliest, humblest things, 
True each chord of rapture rings : 
Love to God, and love to man, 
Thus the Heavenly chorus ran, 
Ever since love's sacrifice 
Bought us back lost Paradise. 

Babe ! it was thine earthly mother 
Kissed thee then, not any other : 
Unto earth awaken, sweet, 
Thou for it created meet. 



58 A MOTHEE WAKENING EEE CHILD. 

On its lap no longer lie, 
Dreaming only of the sky. 
But, for Heaven created too. 
Waken, babe ! thy praise is due 
Both for Heaven and for earth, 
Future joy, and present mirth ; 
Fold thy little hands and pray 
Unto Him who hears alway 
When we " Our Father," say. 



59 



MEMORY AND HOPE. 



Of Memory the pleasures have been sung, 
But Memory's pains the heart have often wrung, 
When past as present is, without the power 
And sympathy vouchsafed to sorrow's hour : 
Remembrances perchance assail the mind, 
And all life's trials, in brief space combined. 
Form one dark chain unbroken.— So anew 
The expanse they've trodden travellers review, 
And only see rock, cliff, and steep ascent 
Which in a stern continuous course seem blent ; 
While flowers that mingled with each dreary scene. 
The genial path that cheered their steps between, 
The way-side brook that slaked their thirst, the glade 
Which sheltered them, in gathering darkness fade. 



60 MEMORY AND HOPE. 

Such Memory's insidious baleful spell 
The energy of present hours to quell ; 
But Hope, even where she seemeth dead can live 
In the unconscious heart, and comfort give : 
Twice blest, she cheers on earth and lifts to heaven- 
Oh, thought of joy for souls who hard have striven. 
That Hope there needless as unfelt will be, 
Remaining only as a Memory. 



61 



TO ONE BELOVED AND KEVERED, 

WHO HAD LOST THE POWER OF SPEECH FOE NEARLY 
TWO YEARS BEFORE HIS DEATH. 

His mind remained quite clear and his feelings warm and 
tender, but he could no longer command the faculty of ex- 
pressing them either in speech or in writing : even though he 
could readily and without effort copy what others had writ- 
ten. 



And is thy spirit captive in its dwelling ; 

Debarred from intercourse by earthly word ; 
Forbidden too to join the full choir, swelling 

Through the eternal heavens, but here unheard ? 
Forbidden kindly greeting to the many 

Whom every tone of thy deep voice could charm ; 
Forbidden e'en to tell thy dearest any 

Of the true, tender feelings still so warm ? 
Ah ! is it so with thee whose firm clear mind 
In clearest language every thought defined ? 



62 TO ONE belo\t:d and eevered. 

Such were indeed imprisonment more dreary 

Than lonely captive's in a dungeon-cell, 
If loved ones round of kindness ne'er should weary, 

Yet thou wert reft of means thy love to tell ; 
If, nevermore with them to hold communion, 

Thine every rising thought unuttered died, 
If to no other soul, in blessed union. 

Thy solitary spirit were allied ! 
Ah, let not that bright, living fire be doomed 
Like lamp in sepulchre, to burn entombed ! 

Wherefore such fear ? It has far nobler powers, 

It is God's breath, the dust it animates. 
Soul often speaks to soul in sUent hours 

"With influence that each being elevates. 
One moment's glance, the slight expressive gesture. 

Instinct with life that shall not here have end. 
Shews the clear spirit through its earthly vesture. 

And child to sire unites, and friend to Mend ! 
Oh more, far more than any words convey 
Can heart and soul unto their kindred say ! 



TO ONE BELOVED AND EEVERED. 63 

Thus, if at times the sudden irritation 

Of fettered utterance conquers even thee, 
How kindly dost thou render compensation 

With penitent, sweet, tender courtesy ! 
Free from cold, wounded pride, thy gentle bearing 

Gives graciously to high and low their dues, 
All that thou canst impart with others sharing 

A cordial greeting thou wilt ne'er refuse. 
Yea, speechless, thou hast commune with thy kind 
Where others never care such ties to bind. 

I thank God for the power unto thee given 

His word to read — when other things seem clear 
Through voice of child or friend alone — oh ! heaven. 

As earth recedes from us, comes very near. 
And shall we judge, because thy voice no longer 

Can unto fellow-mortals speak thy mind. 
That God's own grace may not each day grow stronger 

In thy secluded soul, by fire refined : 
For whom God loves he chastens ; for awhile 
We suffer, but Faith sees a Father's smile I 



64 TO ONE BELOVED AND EEYEEED. 

In God we live, and move, and have our being. 

Each act of patience, faith, and love, to TTin^ 
Speaks a clear language, and his Spirit, freeing 

Souls from all bondage, from the dull and dim 
And earthly senses, leads to that communion 

Which needs no words, but lifts us from the earth. 
With God and all His saints to live in union, 

Kenewed and hallowed by the heavenly birth ; 
No longer natives of the base and low. 
But heirs of heaven, whence all our blessings flow. 

To God alone the heart entirely speaketh 

What for our fellow-men no language frames ; 
The heart that still its Maker's presence seeketh 

Needs for its thoughts to find no vocal names. 
He reads our silence ; purified desires 

Of will and wish ; within our throbbing hearts : 
He reads far more of all that He inspires, 

Than human eloquence to man imparts : 
Heaven's language is not earth's, then grieve no more, 
God understands thy thoughts long, long before ! 



TO ONE BELOVED AND EEVEEED. 65 

'Tis sweet to think the last that thou hast written, 

With power to show thy thoughts to other eyes, 
Is in hebalf of the oppressed and smitten, 

Whom some, that pity all men else, despise. 
While greeting her whose tale of highest power 

Won for the slave compassion and respect.—- 
Ah, from thine earliest to thy latest hour, 

The cause of mercy thou didst ne'er neglect ! 
Mercy and justice joined : how deeply felt 
Was doom pronounced, when pity might not melt. 

Time now for thee is past, the time of bearing 

The bm-den which thy God upon thee laid, 
And thou, we trust, in Paradise art sharing 

With happy beings, rest for earth not made. 
No longer in the house of prayer attending, 

.Infirm and feeble, shall thy form be seen, 
More honoured thus, in humble worship bending, 

Than on the judgment-seat thy noble mien — 
In heaven's vast temple now lift up thy voice. 
And in glad hymns before thy God rejoice ! 



66 



SONG OF EMIGRANTS ON THEIR 
VOYAGE OUT. 



O'er a liquid world float we, 

The fathomless wide sea, 
Our girdled globe with heaving floods surrounding, 

But terror comes not near 

Those who God's name revere, 
Who know and trust His grace and love aboun^ug. 

Should tempests rage, we know 

The peace He can bestow 
Subdues the waves of life, the waves of oc€an ; 

He who above the deep 

Did sinking Peter keep 
Can guard our lives o'er billows' wildest motion. 



SONG OF EMIGEANTS. 67 

Safe as within the ark 

Do we our all embark 
If trusting in the might of God's salvation ; 

For towards the promised shore 

He guides us evermore, 
His new, eternal, and unstained creation. 

Then as we reach the strand 

Of that blest plenteous land 
To which Hope points, our earthly weal foretelling, 

May we remember there 

And ask in earnest prayer 
Homes in the world unseen, of God the dwelling ! 



68 



TRACES OF TIME. 



Time sweeps his shadowy pinions over us, 
And each stroke tells upon us as he flies, 
Though soft the touch may be as downy plumes 
Stolen from the bird that lines her nest with them. 
Thus imperceptibly, as if caressing, 
He brushes from the eye its dewy lustre, 
And in a delicate tracery that deepens 
To sculpture year by year, gives faithful record 
Of what in all these years we think and do. 
Sorrow and care draw harsher lines than Time, 
Marring the visage from soft dignity 
And sweet repose, the loveliness of age : 
But nought can take away a higher beauty, 
Which, when the soul is given up to God 
Reveals e'en through the marred and mortal frame 
Communion with blest immortality. 



69 



THE BROKEN HEART. 



Maiden ! on thee the lot doth light 

Of heaviness and sorrow, 
Hope unto thee hath bid good night, 

And ne'er shall bid good morrow ! 
Yet ocean depths have waveless rest 

When storms above are sweeping, 
Wrecks o'er them float, but calm the breast 

Of him who there lies sleeping. 

Anguish dilates that tearless eye 

Of sweet, yet vacant gaze. 
It echoes in the half breathed sigh 

Which on thy lip delays. 



70 THE BEOKEN HEABT. 

Those pallid lips in gentle curve 

Languid and soft dissever, 
As if death's slumber stiQed each nerve 

And they no more might quiver. 

Meekly thy hand obeys command, 

The weary will it stirs not, 
To thee the same are praise and blame, 

The broken heart prefers not : 
For ocean depths have waveless rest 

Though storms above are sweeping, 
Wrecks o'er them float, but calm the breast 

Of him who there lies sleeping. 

" Maiden ! for that of greatest worth 

The least in worth be given ! 
Dead, awful night, that hides the earth 

Reveals a glorious Heaven. 
And Heaven is calm, but Heaven is blest, 

Whoso the world forsaketh 
Finds there repose : how glad the rest 

Of him who there awaketh !" 



THE BROKEN HEART. 

Time lias gone by, and onee again 

I see thee : it has sped 
With prayer, and therefore not in vain. 

Though ne'er came back the dead. 
I see now in thy far off gaze 

That grief's despair is shriven ; 
Sweet is the calm of eyes that raise 

Their hope alone to Heaven. 

That far off gaze no earthly shore 

Seeks, laved by stormy sea, 
No wreck it meets in sweeping o'er 

Blue Ether's purity ! 
Oh Heaven is calm, and Heaven is blest, 

Whoso the world forsaketh 
Finds there repose : how glad the rest 

Of him who thera awaketh 1 



72 



MORNING HOURS. 



Morgenstunde hat Gold im Munde. 

A Morning hour has gold in its mouth. — 

German Proverb. 

Gold-breathing Hours of Morn, 

From dead cold darkness born, 
By earliest radiance of warmth, light, and life. ' 

Be eloquent to me 

Of earth, and air and sea, 
Of all the glorious stage of man's more glorious strife. 

Where, still a conqueror, light 

Pursues defeated night. 
Combat and victory are still renewed ; 

And God supreme shall still 

Aid man to vanquish ill, 
All shadows fly from those with heavenly light imbued. 



MOENING HOUES. 73 

Strive we with evil powers 

While last these radiant hours, 
Ere darkness vague in shadow all is blending : 

If the weak mortal faint, 

Upwards may look the saint, 
And see from opening heaven the holy fire descending ! 

Tell then of lonely brake 

Where early insects wake, 
And skim the surface of some glittering pool. 

While all the leaves and flowers 

Greet ye, gold-breathing hours, 
And give their welcome forth in dewy fragrance cool. 

Tell of the mountains bare, 

Whose ancient foreheads wear 
The changeful violet shades of passing clouds. 

Decking with softest grace. 

The rugged giant race. 
That wrap so oft their forms in mournful misty shrouds. 



74 MOENING HOURS. 

Tell how such mists their store 

Of hoarded grief outpour 
In diamond drops on buds that drooping wait, 

Or still their treasures keeping, 

In orient glow lie sleeping, 
As Angel squadrons ranged before heaven's golden-gate. 



Tell me of glancing waves 

Where each mute form, that laves 
Its curious beauty in the shining sea, 

Enjoys existence given. 

As on the winds of heaven 
The warbling, winged choir, whose accents are set free. 

The tide-stirred waters gush 

Brightest when morning's flush 
Lies on the plains of ocean calm and vast ; 

Fairer than noon-tide glow. 

Or shaft from argent bow 
Are the young day -beams o'er reviving Nature cast. 



MORNING HOUES, 75 

Light glides from heaven to earth 

In golden harp-strings, worth 
The loving, tuneful touch of Angel hands: 

Though man no longer hears 

The music of the spheres, 
They kindle flames of song, shining o'er many lands. 



Of Sage and Poet old, 

Whose song and wisdom hold 
Their sway o'er dwellers in a later time, 

TeU, ye gold-hreathing hours ! 

May eloquence' hest powers 
Reward the waking soul in morning's glorious prime ! 



Ah, rouse the might of song 

Which should to light belong, 
Light, early light, unsullied by world-stain : 

Till like the mounting Lark 

We soar above the dark, 
And meet ye mid the skies, and sing in heavenly strain ! 



76 MOENING HOUES. 

Gold-breatMng hours of morn ! 

Be your first glory worn 
As before God, a garment to his praise. 

And eloquent to Him 

Rise heartfelt prayer, ere dim 
Its freshness the hot noon, upon life's dusty ways ! 



77 



FIRST VISION. 



I saw her when no tears had pearled 
Her cheek ; one might have said 

That all the sunlight in the world 
On her concentrated ; 

Gleamed on the golden hair that flowed 

In comitless lines of heauty, 
Basked on the cheek where roses glowed, 

As that were all its duty ; 

Flashed in her eyes with such a zest 

And glory of existence, 
It seemed no grief could touch her breast 

Or find in her subsistence. 



FIRST VISION. 

But years have passed, and though again 

I never have beheld her, 
I know that she cannot retain 

Such brightness — Time hath quelled her ! 

Alas for her, alas poor child ! 

If but in Time her pleasure 
She sought, — how little, how defiled, 

The ALL that it can measure ! 



79 



SECOND VISION, 



I tell you of wonders, yet but of a Maiden 

So gentle, so calm, that the world passed her by, 

Though of all various evils with which it is laden 
Not one cast its shade o'er her clear steadfast eye. 

It seemed to me — could it be only a seeming ? 

That to earth for an hour some Angel had stooped, 
And the light of unearthly existence was beaming 

Beneath the long lashes that thoughtfully drooped. 

On what did her mind in its loneliness ponder ? 

The earth was to her but a step to the skies, 
And however long on its soil she might wander, 

Eternal already was all she could prize. 



80 SECOND VISION. 

Eternal the love, free from selfish indulgence, 
To all fellow Pilgrims who with her might roam, 

And to Him who is Love, and whose Truth's bright 
effulgence 
The wilderness showed, while it led her towards home. 

Within her His Presence immortal when shining 

Made Time ©f Eternity only a part, 
At wMch of its sorrows could she be repining. 

When Hjs Angel dwelt in her deep loving heart ? 

No more was Time's restless uncertainty beating 
Within her, and counting the moments that fly. 

Past, Present and Future in one centre meeting 
Were offered up there without straggle or sigh. 

And think not her being was cold and abstracted ; 

No thoughtless girl's smile had such bright genial glow. 
As that which on lips sweet and chastened attracted 

All hearts — not less bright for the calm of her brow I 



SECOND VISION. 81 

And she, in her hands spread towards Heaven, the treasure 
Of everything lovely, and everything pure — 

Good gifts, ever perfect — received in full measure, 
God's kingdom and righteousness first being sure. 

Nor was it amiss that an Angel I deemed her, 
E'en here while she walked with her harp yet unstrung, 

For ever upheld by the One who redeemed her, 

She was His, as though Heaven's bright legions among. 



82 



SPECTRES. 



Oh fear not those who 'neath the greensward sleeping 

No watch are keepmg : 

Their feet stretched out beneath the flowery sod 

Frequent no more the paths they erst have trod ; 

The throbbing heart is stilled, the weeping eye 

Is closed and dry : 

Fear not by night to pass where low they lie ! 

If ever message be thro' Spirit given 

'Tis by the wiU of Heaven, 

And harms not those who in Heaven's King have trust, 

Though strangely quail the souls yet linked to dust 

If thus look back after the parting sigh 

One earlier entered on Eternity : 

Yet to the Spirit world, are we not ever nigh ? 



SCEPTEES. 83 

Spirits with corse and grave have no communionj 

With dust no union : 

Here if the body seem our corse, our grave. 

From which so little respite we can have 

Till freed by Angel-summons to the sky, 

Why fancy, why, 

That spirits linger where the clay must lie ? 

But many a corse walks while broad day is shining, 

In dark repining, 

Bearing within no spiritual light. 

But gloomy as the darkest hour of night. 

More dangerous than Ghost with wailing cry ;-=- 

Yet do not fly, 

Oh, win such back from guilt and misery ! 



84 



THE EXILE. 



From friends, from home, so distant thou 

Art in thine exile dwelling, 
That grief is ne'er forgotten now 

Because half lost in telling : 

For many a far horizon lies 
Between thy home and thee, 

Whose varied outline hounds the skies 
With mountain, tower and tree. 

Yet between thee and God's high heaven 

No earth can intervene, 
That Home is free to gazmg, even 

JFrom saddest earthly scene. 



THE EXILE. 85 



Breathings of boundless love alone 
Fill up the unmeasured space, 

From where sits the Almighty One 
To Earth's most wretched place. 

Swifter than eye can pierce the sky 
May heartfelt prayer ascend ; 

Then never say in griefs dismay 
Thou art without a Friend ! 



THE THEEE CHILDKEN. 



I saw three children, soft and fair. 
Like Angels breathing mortal air. 
They and the world were strangers, 

In it they had no part, 
Th^ little guileless rangers 

Led onward by the heart ! 
As yet world-maxims, keenly cold, 

FeU on unheeding ears ; • 
Its seeming prudence, worn and old. 

Had cost them yet no tears. 

For they were fresh ; no warped deception. 
No gloss, no argued wrong could sever 

Them from the first clear strong perception 
That right is right now and for ever : 

And custom's veil had not yet dimmed their eyes 

Unto the truly great and truly wise. 



THE THKEE CHILDEEN. 87 

The little Angel faces 

Towards each other bent, 
And in those dear embraces 

Each on the other leant. 

Their dimpled arms were intertwined, 
So might one say, one form, one mind. 
And yet a lovely difference grew, 
The more I gazed, upon my view. 
The right hand maiden raised her eyes 

With calm and trusting confidence, 
As one who on sure aid relies. 

And looks for no offence. 

With upward glance, with steady mien, 
Her fearless eyes were sweet, though keen. 
The one upon the left was gay, 
As though her life were one Spring day. 
Her open eye of deep bright blue 

Looked past all clouds, o'er every bound, 
The upcurled lashes sweeping grew, 

And never drooped towards the ground. 



88 THE THREE CHILDEEN. 

Her fair waved locks upon the breeze 
Played gaily, hindering not her sight. 

And the soft rosy lips at ease 
Parted, as breathing were delight. 

Oh, fair were both, but when upon 
The next I looked, the centre one. 
And let my eyes upon her stay, 
I felt I could not look away. 
Her arms around their necks soft pressing 
Told their existence was her blessing. 
So soft, so close the pressure grew. 
The grasp, scarce felt, was thrilling too. 
And in her face, that drooping turned, 

With downcast lids, yet eyes half raised. 
An inward joy serenely burned. 

As though on nought but joy she gazed. 

You saw that love was all her being. 
Pure humble love, unconscious love, 

Ever with faith and hope agreeing. 
Which need not its existence prove ; 



tA: three childeen. 89 

Absorbed in other beings so 

That towards them all its heart-springs flow. 

0, in that lovely silent face, 

Pure, soft and tranquil, I could trace 

The self resigned, the will subdued. 

The heart in life's first hours renewed, 

Which in unearthly beauty tell, 

Chiefest ig she who loves so well ! 



90 



TO MY COUSIN FANNY. 



Fanny, thy youth, my childhood blending, 

In us a happy union made. 
Not marred by any harsh contending, 

So we grew up through sun and shade. 

Together in the early hours 

When youth's bright dawn reflects its hues 
In every drop that gems the flowers. 

And glorifies their tearful dews ; 

Together working, chatting, playing, 
How oft were we in former days. 

E'en then the deep foundation laying 
For future blame or future praise. 



TO MY COUSIN FANNY. 91 

And thou to me wast then the dearest 

Fair form of youthful womanhood, 
Thy intuition purest, clearest. 

Of blameless imreproved good : 



For the few years thou hadst been weaving 
The web of life ere thought was mine 

But won me more, I thus perceiving 

Wisdom, not shared, but loved, being thine. 

Since then, how little our communion 
Hath been within one quiet home. 

Yet, by that early bond of union, 
I claim thee for the days to come ! 

Dost thou remember how 'twas glorious 
To twine a bower, a bower of thorns ? 

Ah ! task delightftd though laborious. 
Where blushing rose the stem adorns ! 



92 TO MY COUSIN FANNY. 

■ On the wild common near our dwelling 
We strove amid the hushes high, 
But childhood's joys are not for telling, 
Too deep in heart and hrain they He, 



When first the mystic soul her ruling 
In strange unconscious power begins, 

Before the world's stern selfish schooling 
O'er youth's romance a triumph wins. 

Yet often keen are early sorrows, 
Early the primal curse we feel. 

From birth we live not many morrows 
Ere we have need of One to heal ! 



While youth's romance — ^when 'tis the yearning 
For the most beautiful, most true — 

Both pains and purifies in burning, 
And may in age be living too ; 



TO MY COUSIN FANNY. 93 

When every wandering desire 

For worldly fame and love is o'er, 
And bums alone a holy fire 

The great white throne of God befdire. 



In Him, in Him be our communion 

E'en now, with spirit purified. 
In Him be sweetest, happiest union, 

Humanity thus glorified. 

Dear Friend, dear Cousin, while the hours 
Advance towards evening, may we know 

Tears but as dew on Eden's flowers, 
And rising dawn by setting glow ! 



94 



INVOCATION. 



Stagnant my thouglit remains, 

Mournful my heart and still, 
Gloomily Fancy wanes : 

Lord, if it were Thy wiU 
This lamp of clay to light, 
Its rays shoidd pierce through night, 

Hallowed, since thine 1 
Even as Thou mayest deign 

Use it, then hreak it ! 
Take hack Thy light again, 

My spirit, take it. 

Hallowed, since Thine ! 



95 



TO THE GUILTY. 

" If thou, Lord, wilt be extreme to mark what is done 
amies: O Lord, who may abide it?" Ps. 130, v. 3. 



Arise, thou fallen one ! who dare refuse 

Mercy to such as God Himself may choose ! 

Though proud, self-righteous man the sinner spurns, 

God's tender love towards him ever yearns. 

Arise, thou fallen ! if for guilty deeds 

Thy soul is contrite, and thy bosom bleeds. 

If in the dust thy face be hidden now, 

In heaven thou yet mayest raise an Angel brow ! 

* 
In heaven thine yet may be an Angel face, 

Calmly resplendent in God's perfect grace ! 

When with His smile of love He looks on thee, 

Pure as His Saints and Angels thou shalt be ! 



96 TO THE GUILTY. 

E'en here, for noble action, noble meed ; 

Honour and praise attend heroic deed; 

A life renewed, devoted unto good 

May e'en by fellow-man be understood 

As full amends for evil done before, 

And the keen fire of shame shall burn no more. 

But oh, if fallen man shall deem thy crime 

Too black to be effaced ere end of time, 

If fallen man cannot forgive, and bend 

To be the humbled, contrite sinner's friend ; 

God, the most pure, the holiest, to His skies 

Calls thee, and bids thee as His child arise ; 

God and his Saints receive thee, free from stain ; 

Washed in Christ's blood, with Him thou shalt remain. 

For Time thou may'st be ruined and undone — 

Rise up ! — Eternity may yet be won ! 



97 



THE DEFORMED TRANSFORMED. 



How various are the dreams that play 
O'er Fancy — some of yesterday, 
Some of the morrow's joy or strife, 
Aimless as many a human life : 
All falsehood some, as vague and wild 
As Phantoms that a&ight a child, 
While others rays of truth retain 
Refracted strangely from the brain. 
And others yet seem warnings sent 
Direct from the Omnipotent. 
I now relate a dream of Night — 
Interpret it by clear Dayhght. 



« 

98 THE DEFOEMED TEANSFORIMED. 

I saw a man whose blood-red eye 

Was sullen in its agony, 

Yet with a lurid light it glared 

Full oft, and threatened more than dared. 

His Umbs were all distort and bent 

Like knotted oak by lightning rent. 

His back was bowed, his head was bare. 

Blasted his brow, and shagged with hair ; 

His garments squaUd, rent and torn, 

Befouled with blood, with wandering worn. 

Upon a river's bank he stood, 
And gazed into the crystal flood ; 
To cross he would have made essay. 
But deep the calm clear waters lay. 
Below him in that mirror fair 
White wings of floating clouds passed by 
Across the blue reflected sky — 
Unrecked of in his deep despair. 
For he himself alone saw there. 
That hideous form ! he never knew 



THE DEFORMED TEANSFOEMED. 99 

Before, how foul it was to view : 
And burning tears of grief and shame 
Fell in the pure and peaceful stream. 
Scarce stirred the tremulous sweet tide. 
Troubled by drops unlike its own, 
Ere he beheld a Holy One, 
White-robed, light-crowned, by his side : 
In that clear mirror shewing well 
The contrast between heaven and hell I 
Sweet tones then fell upon his ear 
Like distant music drawing near : 
" Thou wouldst attain the further strand ?" 
The vision raised a beckoning hand. 
And " Follow me," was only said ; 
But that could not be disobeyed. 
Swiftly before the white form glides. 
Unruffled, thro' the flowing tides, 
But the Deformed on plunging in 
Feels round his waist cold waters gushing,, 
Yet strength to strive they give in rushing^, 
Though soon they lave him to the chin. 



100 THE DEFOEMED TEANSFORMED. 

He could not stop, he followed close. 

By that bright crown celestial led, 

And the next step, above his head 

With circling whirl the waters rose : 

He seemed without a struggle gone, 

While the calmed stream flowed lucid on. 

Could not the holy Being save 

The guilty from a destined grave ? 

Ah, see ! upon the further shore 

He rises, but the same no more ! 

His upward eyes dilated beam, 

Expanding to the dome of day 

As to absorb its every ray. 

Back from his brow the bright locks stream 

Distilling dew, and not a seam 

Or wrinkle on that fair broad brow 

Eemindeth of past suffering now. 

Unbent, unscathed, majestic, high, 

He feareth nought beneath the sky. 

And his white robe no mortal wove. 

A smile of generous, genial love, 



THE DEFORMED TEANSFORMED. 101 

Just parts his lips, one firm fair hand 
Clasps trustingly, with grateful force. 
His who has led him to the strand 
Thro' that pure river's healing course — 
The other, more impassioned, raised, 
God's grace and tender mercy praised, 
In gesture of such rapt devotion 
And self-forgot fidelity. 
That all unheeded was the motion 
Of bended knees' humility. 



102 



MARTYRDOM OF ST. STEPHEN. 



^low could the Martyr stand — 

the first smce Jesus' death — ^firm, without fear, 

^mid his foes ; and Ms cabn face uprear 

iladiant and sweet, as one of Angel-band 

Whose chainless feet with peace are ever shod ? — 

He had seen Christ at the right hand of God ! 

How could the CouncU speak 

His doom ? An Angel once shut Lions' jaws, 

Why not these brutal mouths ? How dread a pause 

Had rescued Stephen, if less loving meek 

His glance — each Judge before whom then he stood 

Had been struck dumb by eyes that had seen God ! 



MAETYEDOM OF ST. STEPHEN. 103 

If such delay were rescue, it had been 

Vouchsafed : God's will had sanctioned the reprieve ; 

With death far off, to hope and to believe. 

His lot had then continued. The once seen 

Again invisible, he earth had trod — 

Oh, better far, to die and be with God I 

But could the Martyr die 

In charity with Murderers, and pray 

Not for himself alone when they did slay 

Him guiltless ? For them rose his latest cry 

Before he slept upon the bloody sod ; — 

He had seen Christ at the right hand of God 1 



104 



THE ANGEL ON TWO WINGS. 



It was no Demon of limping gait 

That came to the homes of men, 
But a form that in Heaven's comts might wait, 

Ah, what did it seek here then ? 
On pinions white as the Andes' snow 

It entered each dim abode, 
They shone prismatic mth fading glow, 

Which Heaven's lingering light bestowed. 

Yet was no Heavenly glory rolled 
Romid the Angel's temples white, 

Circled alone by the locks of gold 
That shone in the world's daylight. 



THE ANGEL ON TWO WINGS. 105 

His vesture trailed in the dust of earth, 

How soon, how soon 'twas soiled ! 
He came from Heaven to know Heaven's worth, 

And sorely here he toiled. 

He toiled with a hurden heavier far 

Than the heaviest freely home, 
He had fallen to an unknown, alien star, 

'Midst mjrriads who mourn ; 
And had no mission to help and heal, 

And no appointed place ; 
God's love he never could reveal 

Who never knew His grace. 

He was native to all that is fair and hright 

In the outer courts of bliss, 
He knew many a lovely sound and sight, 

All Paradise was his, 
But he had not pierced to the central ring 

Formed round that awful Throne 
Where none dare look save those who bring 

Love, and but love alone ! 



106 THE ANGEL ON TWO WINGS. 

So a strange and restless discontent 

Began in Ms breast to move, 
With passionate pleasure strangely blent. 

And yearnings more to prove : 
It was not pure, it was not sure 

To lead him nearer God, 
And he sank away, till on this world's clay 

His trembling footsteps trod. 

While a voice within him clearly said, 

" Earth must thy portion be, 
Till by Time's burden on thee laid 

Thou know Eternity. 
Thou must mingle unseen with the earthly race, 

And thus their sorrow prove, 
Without power to aid by missioned grace. 

Without voice for words of love." 

Rapid, restless, each circling zone 

He traversed o'er and o'er, 
No city thronged, no dwelling lone 

That he did not explore : 



THE ANGEL ON TWO WINGS. 107 

" Woe, woe, woe," with a gathering cry- 
Swelled on his shrinking ear, 

From serf despised, from nohle high — 
The angel quailed in fear ! 

In every clime and in every realm 

He sin and anguish saw, 
Enough the world to overwhelm 

But for its Ruler's law. 
He saw the horrors of battle-field, 

He heard there deep, deep groans. 
But from those whose sorrow false smiles concealed 

Arose the sorest moans. 

For he could enter where they believed 

No eye their grief beheld. 
And from the world's control reprieved. 

Its force no longer quelled. 
They saw not that aught that had once known Heaven 

Was standing then so near, 
And oh ! still less to their hearts was given 

God's presence calm and dear. 



108 THE ANGEL ON TWO WINGS. 

In the Angel, sorrowful but pure, 

A yearning sense had birth, 
A need, a wish, a will obscure 

For a gift of precious worth : — 
A gift to change that utter woe 

To heavenly delight. 
Such as he never yet did know 

In heavenly mansions bright. 

He pity felt, unfelt before. 

And with it new hfe came, 
For of himself he thought no more. 

And no more was the same. 
But still small voices then arose 

By a sweet stream flowing ever 
Taintless through life and aU its woes, 

Ne'er from its source to sever. 

" Love, love, love ;" said the voices soft, 
" Love, though we die, rules all ; 

We trust God now, as we've trusted oft, 
He will not let us faU. 



THE ANGEL ON TWO WINGS. 109 

God is love, though his creatures here 

Must often sorrow feel, 
Yet perfect love expels all fear, 

And love will love reveal !" 

" God is love !" yes, he heard them tell 

Of a Saviour crucified 
Who left high Heaven with them to dwell. 

And sin and death defied : 
Then joy undreamed all his being filled 

As he heard of the cross and grave, 
To his spirit's inmost depth it thrilled 

That Christ had died to save ! 

The Angel looked on the sufferers then, 

He looked upon those who spoke, 
He saw a glory on brows of men, 

And his icy fetters broke ! 
Up, up to Heaven's own glory now ! 

Heaven's glory he can see. 
It circles around his radiant brow. 

For love hath set him free ! 



110 THE ANGEL ON TWO WINGS. 

Up, up, towards tlie centre of light he springs, 

Bound which all systems move, — 
He passes the planets as little things, 

He flies to the source of love ! 
Up, upwards through immensity, 

Up, up through boundless space I 
To look on love's infinity, 

To look upon God's face ! 



Ill 



INDOLENCE. 



By a tangled path of thorn 
Indolence goes all forlorn 
With neglected garments torn : 

All bewildered on his way, 
Scarcely lighted by the day. 
In the gloomy woods astray. 

But the Righteous stiU ascending 

O'er the thorns his way is wending, 

To where heaven and earth are blending. 



112 INDOLENCE. 

Indolence roasts not the game 
His capricious chase o'ercame, 
On his hearth goes out the flame. 

But the Righteous' altar-fire 
Unto heaven will aspire, 
'Tis of self the funeral pyre. 

Indolence, the coward, sees 
Lions lurking under trees, 
Hears their roaring in the hreeze : 

And he soon returns again 
To his den, nor can attain 
What he, slumbering, dreams in vain. 

But the Righteous seeks repose 
In defiance of all foes 
"Who his upward path oppose. 

Fiery furnace cannot burn him. 
Raging ocean cannot turn him, 
Safe 'mid danger still discern him ; 



INDOLENCE. 113 



Till the distant blue ethereal 
Veil him in its mist aerial, 
Fairest as 'tis least material. 

Thus he melts into the sky, 
Vanishing from every eye. 
For the mortal gaze too high. 



114 



OKE LOOK, ONE LOOK IN JESUS' FACE, 



One look, one look in Jesus' face 

Ere dark clouds sweep between 
Him and my yearning eyes — ^the trace 

Of all that He has been, 
Shall be, and is, oh stamp on me ! 
His everlasting purity 

Even on my heaii; ! 

One look, one look in Jesus' face, 
Ere dark clouds sweep between 

And close Heaven's gate : shall not the trace 
Remain of Christ once seen ? 

"When what God is our glad eyes see, 

We shall be like His purity, 
Yes, pure in heart I 



115 



HE FEEDETH THE YOUNG RAVENS 
THAT CALL UPON HIM." 

Ps. CXLVII. 9. 



Seeking the bread of Heaven, we come 
To Thee, Oh Lord, and from Thy home 
Celestial nourishment would gain — 
None ever call on Thee in vain. 

Not only wilt Thou feed the Dove, 
White, tender, pure, whose voice is love, 
But when the famished Ravens cry, 
Thy pitying aid is ever nigh. 

Tho' black as night their sable plume, 
And hoarse their cry to match its gloom, 
Yet when for food their plaints arise 
Those rough harsh accents pierce the skies. 



lis HE FEEDETH THE YOUNG EAVENS. 

If we are Ravens, in Thy light 
Our dusky plumes shall change to white. 
Though soiled and stained, our wings shall be 
All glorious when we soar to Thee ! 



117 



TO THE PARENTS OF THEODOSIA D. 
The " Gift of God " taken away by Him ! 



Matchless repose ! thus let her He, 

Her childhood's golden dream unbroken 
By life's stern, sad reality, 

And on her brow the guileless token 
Of meek, unconscious purity; 

Peace ! not one murmuring word be spoken. 
Thus let her he, your precious treasure, 

Guarded you hoped, to bless your age ; 
Call her not back till you can measure 

Heaven's glory by this world's presage, 
Or liken any earthly pleasure 

To those of which God's hand is gage. 



118 THEODOSIA D. 

She had staid years enough to learn 

The Saviour's life, the Saviour's death. 
And make the only claimed return, 

A child's ohedience, childlike faith : 
This shall he huried in no urn, 

To Him ascends her living hreath. 
Call her not hack from death to life. 

From death to life she now hath fled. 
Pangs such as yours in Nature's strife 

At parting with the early dead 
(Though with such woe the world he rife) 

Not even Mother's love can dread 
For her, whose little form now lies 

Ca]m, ne'er to suffer grief or pain ; 
When upon this world closed her eyes 

" God's gift" you could no more retain— 
She, scarcely striving, won the prize 

Of Heaven — call her not hack again ! 



119 



SITTING AT THE THRESHOLD. 

" I would choose rather to sit at the threshold of the house 
of my God, than to dwell In the tents of wickedness." 

Ps. Ixxxiv. 10. marginal reading. 



Oh, King of glory, King of Heaven, 

If around Thy throne 
Where thousands stand, to me be given 

Not the room for one ; 

Rather than dwell below, amid 

The wicked and the base, 
Where, the Divine being veiled and hid, 

Face answers darkened face, 



120 SITTING AT THE THEESHOLD. 

Upon the tlireshold of Thy gates 

Patient would I sit, 
As suppliant at a Palace waits 

"Who dares not enter it : 



There see the light of Heaven shine through 

Till it even shed 
Some of the glory that I view 

On my humhled head ; 

And hear each living creature's tone 

Free from sin and care 
In full, soft chorus join as one. 

Singing the joy they share ; 



The joy of all those blessed souls 
Looking on God's face, 

That, like to many waters, rolls 
Through everlasting space ; 



SITTING AT THE THEESHOLD. 121 

Deeper than ocean's deepest roar 
When wrecks are strewed on earth ; 

Sweet as the Angel song that bore 
News of the Saviour's birth. 



Rather would I hear such sounds 

In the distance rise, 
Though not yet within the bounds ; 

Joining but with sighs ; 



Than any melody below, 
Melting in faint pleasure. 

Or wild in passion's untamed flow, 
Sweeping mystic measure. 

Rather would I thus remain 

For a thousand years, 
Than forfeit Heaven for any gain 

That on the earth appears. 



122 SITTING AT THE THEESHOLD. 

But not long without the gate 
Should I look wistful through, 

Where Jesus enters, all who wait 
For Him shall enter too ! 



123 



BLESSED ART THOU AMONG WOMEN.' 



And art thou in the place of God adored, 

Thou blessed among women, mild and still, 
Whose whole meek life was " see thine Handmaid, Lord, 

Be it to me according to Thy will !" 
Pure, simple Matron, oh how sad and strange 

The impious exaltation of thy name ; 
Thou who hadst no ambitious thought to range 

Beyond thy home, nor strive for any fame : 
Thou who didst treasure in thy heart each word 

From lips that once were nourished at thy breast^ 
Gathering the heavenly truth whenever heard 

As thy life's manna, hoarded and possest 
With double love, a Mother's for her Son, 

A woman's for the One most reverenced. 
And when He silenced thy few words begun 



124 BLESSED AET THOU AMONG WOMEN. 

Telling the need of wine, thou, not incensed, 
And only waiting on His holy will, 

But badest the menials whatsoe'er He said 
To do ; in mute obedience waiting still : 

Nor ever didst command, nor raise thy head 
As Mother of a King, nor claim a throne 

Beside Him in the Heavens, as did those twain, 
The sons of Zebedee, who won alone 

This boon, such baptism as His to gain, 
And of His cup to drink : thou also, thou, 

Pierced by the sorrow for His wounds, His grave, 
Sadly that cup receiving, didst avow 

ThyseK His mortal Mother, who to save 
Thy first-born impotent, didst stand beside 

His cross unflinching, patient, although weak ; 
His anguish awed thine own : thou couldst not hide 

Thy pangs, but they were borne in silence meek. 
He, bearing wrath Divine, yet looked on thee, 

Gave thee an eartlily home, an earthly son ; 
Tokens of love more strong than death ; these He 

Bestowed — but not the power His Victory won ! 



125 



FALLEN ANGELS. 



They fell, knew Heaven, and fell 1 

Those who could dwell 

Within Heaven's light of light 

In endless glory bright, 

Woe, woe ! they fell ! they fell ! 

What was their Heaven ? 

Had it been ever given 

To them, while looMng on God's face, to grow 

Like Him, his love to know, 

They had not fallen so ! 



126 



THE SOUL'S ROBING. 



The Soul took water melted from snow, 
And bathed herself lily wliite, 

And Arabia's perfumes gave to flow 
O'er her tresses golden bright. 

The Soul her splendid robes put on, 
Wrought both with toil and care. 

She spun and wove them, and they shone 
With broidery rich and rare. 

The Soiil looked into her mirror high 
That hung on the lamp-lit wall, 

And said, " All glorious am I 
In mine own ancestral Hall." 



THE soul's eobing. 127 

The Soul went forth into God's daylight, 

And a woful change was there ! 
As a leper, in beggar's rags bedight, 

Was she who seemed so fair ! 



She wept full long, she wailed full sore, 
But few of her grief took heed, 

And they who scanned her o'er and o'er 
Gave not unto her need. 



Till One appeared, in whose calm eye 

Both love and power were seen ; 
And she cried with a great and bitter cry, 

" If Thou wilt, Thou canst make me clean! " 



And He passed not — He o'er her threw 

His stainless robe of price. 
And a ring upon her finger drew — 

His Own He bade arise. 



128 THE soul's robing. 

Oh ! none who looked upon her then 
Could her old self discover, 

Lovely she was as Morning when 
It triumphs Darkness over. 



129 



" DEPART FBOM ME ; FOR I AM A SINFUL 
MAN, LORD." 

Luke v., 8. 



Depart, because I sinful am, Lord ? 

Never such prayer be made on such a plea ! 
The more I sinful am, the more, adored 

And gracious Saviour, have I need of Thee ! 
Creator and Redeemer, Thee alone. 

Thee only need I in the Universe, 
Thou, Thou, my Maker, didst for sin atone, 

And take away the dread impending curse, 

And aU our self-won doom of woe reverse. 

May thy blest spirit, Holiness, Truth, Love, 
Us to the Father of our souls unite. 

And in this union, every ill above. 

May darkness be dispelled by perfect light ! 



130 DEPART FEOM ME. 

For all I pray ! why should I one exclude 
By Thee created, for whom Thou hast died I 

Shall those most near to me Thy thought elude 
Mid the vast throng ? Oh what from Thee can hide 
One soul! — Thou wilt that all be sanctified. 



131 



PKAISE. 



I would not sing the highest, loudest song 

Of all Heaven's Host, 
Nor think if I, the Mest redeemed among, 

Praised or loved most I 

1 would not care to wave the tallest palm 

With Victory's shout, 
But, lost in love and joy, yet calm, so calm, 

All self leave out. 

My voice with millions blending, I would know 

Millions were blest, 

Whose holy hymn should in Ml concord flow. 

Of Heaven possest. 



132 PRAISE. 

It is enough to feel that Christ is one 

And in Him, we : 
Thus all united, and thus all alone, 

Thus may we be ! 

We shall wake up and see Him as He is ; 

Then satisfied 
Lay down all crowns, all gains, and rest in this, 

With Him to abide. 

God only can praise God, the Infinite; 

He only says, 
MaMng us like to Him, " Let there be light !" 
V Then we can praise! 



133 



T0~ AFTER HIS CONFIRMATION. 



Where dwells thy heart ? With Him who on blind eyes 
Laid hands Almighty, that the day might pour 
Through those sad orbs which night obscured before ; 

Who healed the lame by bidding them arise ? 

Where dwells thy heart ? With Him who from the grave 
Called forth the dead, Himself of life the source ? 
'Tis not too late, altho' we clasp a corse, 

For Him to give again what first He gave. 

Where dwells thy heart ? With Him who foulest forms. 
Defiled and loathsome, cleansM with a word 
Supreme, Omnipotent ? Whoso hath heard 

And trusted Him, no sad disease deforms. 



134 TO— AFTER HIS CONTIEMATION. 

If safe with Him thy heart, the peace above 
All understanding, shall its throbbing still : 
In Heaven He yet is near us, and He will 

Heal all infirmities with boundless love. 



He will our dim eyes fre& from worldly scales, 
TiR they perceive the glorious light of Heaven ; 
Will bid us stand, and with a strength new given 

Take up our burdens when weak nature fails. 

He wiU that nature so defiled by sin 

From its pollution purify and save ; 

WiU raise from death, corruption and the grave. 
And make us shine all glorious witliin. 



If His thy heart, how easy was the yoke 
Assumed of late, and how sincere the vow, 
The vain world's pomp and glory leaving now» 

Ne'er to resume the chain which Jesus broke. 



TO — — AETER HIS CONFIRMATION. 135 

111 Hiin abiding we can all tMngs do : 
By His in-dwelling evil is removed : 
Give Him thy heart, may He be the most loved 

Who is the only Good, the only Teue ! 



136 
IF THOU HAST BEEN THROUGH GRACE. 



If thou hast been through grace to life renewed. 
No more be memories of sin reviewed ; 
They wiU but soil and clog thy rising wings. 
Thought fixed on evil sure infection brings. 
Thy present being sever from the past, 
Nor dwell mid darkness by its shadows cast. 
The Tyrant, who unto a corse enchained 
His victim, but a mortal form constrained ; 
Thy Heaven-born living Spirit do not bind 
To the dead Spirit of thy former mind. 



TIME WEAVES BRIGHT THREADS. 
— ♦ — 
Time weaves bright threads of silver in our IcTcks, 
That glance amid the rest of sober hue ; 
And thus the shadow is our lingering youth ; 
The light, om- coming age ! 



137 



GREEN LEAVES. 



As green leaves surround the Rose, 
Less fair Fairest may enclose, 
Thus her heauty brighter glows. 

With her they may not compare, 
Yet they all her triumphs share, 
Wanting them, she's not so fair ! 



OH FEAR NOT GRIEF. 



Oh fear not grief, oh fear not any pain 
God sends thee — fear thou to fall into sin, 
Not into sorrow. When we trembling stand 
And dread to plunge into a void abyss. 
We find it filled with God ! 



138 



SONNETS 



TO EMMA D. 



I. 

Soft beams thine eye, in heaven's serenest hue ; 
Half veiled the lid beneath, yet upward bending 
Its gentle, tranquil gaze, and sweetly blending 
All happy feelings, innocently true. 
Colour of constancy, unchanging blue, 
A promised future smiles within its rays, — 
Young Poet ! shouldst thou win immortal bays. 
Virtue's fresh fount shall gem the wreath with dew ! 
Fair shining tresses shade thy rounded cheek ; 
When part those rosy lips, oh ! list the sound ! 
In slow and silver accents dost thou speak. 
The liquid air soft yielding floats around 
UnrufSed by that voice so low and meek ; 
Such '' woman's excellence " in thee is foimd. 



SONNETS. 139 



TO EMMA D. 



II. 
Emma, if sweet and gentle thou didst seem, 
In winning softness free from scorn or pride, 
When first I saw thee, recently a bride. 
And so beloved that love was not a dream, 
Yet sweeter still and dearer now I deem 
The matron brow where matron cares preside, 
No burden, but a crown ; unto thy side 
Fair children cling, trained in no false extreme ; 
Their rule, a steadfast calmness, to engage 
Obedience ; their reward, thy mild caress. 
The daughter, tending dear and honored age, 
The wife, the sister and the friend no less 
Thy cordial words, thy graceful acts express. 
Be ever blest, as thou dost others bless ! 



140 SONNETS. 



TO THE MEMORY OF CHAELOTTE C. 



A gentle voice is hushed, that ever spoke 

The law of kindness : its sweet songs are stUled : 

A heart, with true love's throhhings warmly thrUled 

Is cold, cold only by Death's icy stroke ! 

Nought else from its dear charities had broke 

The clinging tendrils ; nothing else had chilled 

The tenderness which that pure being filled. 

Ah ! shall we plead, Death's sentence to revoke ? 

No, no ! she lives, she lives for evermore. 

Her soul expanding to the life of life. 

For her, not love, but grief and pain are o'er, 

And all the bitterness of earthly strife, 

We need not caU her back, we too shaU soar 

Unto our God, who all things wiU restore ! 



SONNETS. 141 



THE HOURS. 



Morn opes her portals, and a lovely train, 
Hours fair with light, dance o'er the glittering sea. 
And bathe their sandals in its tide with glee. 
Yet of salt bitterness no taint retain, 
For all that cleaves to them must sweetness gain. 
Thence thro' the woods, and over lawn and lea 
Their dewy footsteps pass, so light and free 
That barrier none nor boundary can restrain 
From bounteous trespass the glad sister hours. 
They scent their golden tresses, that illume 
The deep greenwood, from all its sweetest flowers, 
Whose vases soft unclose, and yield perfume 
To their soft touch, till fragrant are the bowers, 
And fairer yet is light that shines in gloom. 



142 SONNETS. 



NIGHT. 



"Welcome thy mantle wide, that hides awhile 
Existence from our eyes, sad, gentle Night, — = 
Earthly existence, — ^for the worlds of light 
Around us beam like great Creation's smile, 
As even our world of sorrow may beguile 
Their inmates to believe we breathe delight 
In joy's own atmosphere, for ever bright. 
Where the sun shines upon our cloudy pile ! 
A truce in conflict thy dark banner brings, 
Beneath it half the weary world finds rest, 
All creatures hushed, the wild wind only sings 
In breathing musical ; or, unreprest 
Though hidden, floods and fountain-falls betray 
The life of Nature, else unknown till Day. 



SONNETS. 143 



TO LUCY M. 



When first I saw thee, Lucy, thy long hair 
Was twined with massive coils around thy head 
Li auhurn richness, showing golden thread. 
And brightly braided on thy forehead fair 
And high, as yet unshadowed by a care. 
The clear suffusion of youth's bloom was shed. 
Like haze transparent o'er a landscape spread, 
On thy fair face : the blue eyes shining there 
Soft as blue sMes, not like to starry flame. 
Still golden are thy locks, soft is thy gaze 
Where warm affections live ; still are the same 
Thy gifts for social converse, wit that plays 
Through all life's cares so brightly, — ah, it came 
From Erin — ^Erin's child art thou always. 



144 SONNETS. 



A SCENE. 



On northern coast I stood : the sky was gray 

With clouds : ahout the cliffs the sea-birds wheeled , 

And not a gleam the purity revealed 

Of their white breasts, so white in radiant day. 

Their wild cries rose as they were ghosts astray 

From Heaven : lost, lost Spirits ! while concealed 

Was light that should have led there, — yet appealed 

Those cries for aid it seemed. Up dashed the spray 

'Gainst rugged rocks, and nothing but the waves' 

Deep voices answered. Solemnly their chime 

KoUed in unceasing music from below : 

The ocean moaned, as forced through narrow caves 

Like vast Eternity, whose ceaseless flow 

Is surging through the dangerous straits of Time. 



-SONNETS. 145 



TO GERTKUDE F. 



Gertrude, like thee I would pourtray the child 
Whom Jesus set mid' the contending train 
Of His disciples : bidding them attain 
Like meekness, humble patience, and the mild 
Unconsciousness of self. Thus undefiled 
By taint of sin are children, if remain 
The restless heart and ever busy brain 
Hushed in reposing faith. And if exiled 
Short space from Home, even now their Angels have 
Perpetual vision of God's presence there. 
"Wherefore thine eye, gazing serenely grave 
Through the soft glory of long golden hair — 
Not burnished o'er with curl or glittering wave- 
Looks fearless on the world, and void of care I 



146 SONNETS, 



THE FAILING SENSES. 



Tokens of Age ! ye close the Spirit's gates 
In earthly fortress, on dense thronging life 
Of this world — ^barring thence its clamorous strife. 
Vain pomps, and trimnphs false; that she who waits 
Her happy summons to celestial Mates, 
Thus sitting tranquil and retired within. 
May in soft silence rest her from the din 
Of battle, ere it end. Through prison grates 
The senses dulled enjoy a breathless cahn. 
Like the sweet hush of Nature's voiceless psalm. 
Her sabbath pause when fairest sMes are given. 
This world shut out, the next is very nigh ; 
And echoings of the eternal song on high 
May thrill the lone one, ere she enter Heaven ! 



SONNETS. 147 



NETS. 



" Surely in vain the net is spread in the eyes of everything 
that hath a wing." Prov. i. 17. Marginal reading. 



Surely in vain for every winged thing 

The net is spread on earth — ^for they can soar 

Through clear unbounded ether-floods, and o'er 

Its rolling mass triumphant carols sing. 

Sweeping the skies, or poised on buoyant wing 

At distance, only as a tempting shore 

This world appears to them, with mountains hoar, 

Like guardian walls around fair Eden's spring ; 

While the blue veil celestial mantles all. 

And, undefined, the earth is fair and bright ; 

But their descent dims it with nearer sight. 

Oh who that could wear wings would on this ball 

To fowler, spreading nets, become a thrall. 

When the free heaven were his in rapturous flight ! 



148 .SONNETS. 



THE TWO PORTEAITS. 



Untouched by care, almost by thought, behold 

Youth's image here — ^Now, drawn in after years. 

This picture view, wherein of life appears 

The inward history that is untold 

By aught besides, nor left in memory's leaf. 

Thoughts at the time unheeded or unknown, 

Feelings, forgot by her who felt, are shown 

Upon these features still. If signs of grief 

O'er gladness seem to bear prevailing sway, 

'Tis that the harsh strong lines by suffering wrought 

Retain o'er joy's soft trace invading power ; 

Not so upon the soul, for sorrow's day 

To that a happiness more deep hath brought 

From Heaven, than e'er gave earth's most witching 

hour, 

^. p. p. 



SONNETS, 149 



CHRIST'S SEPULCHBE. 



"Unto the tomb the two Disciples eame, 
'Twas vacant — they departed. Mary staid, 
Lingering in love where once His form was laid 
Who had forgiven all her sin and shame. 
When Angels asked her sorrow's cause, the same 
Thro' all events, in stainless white arrayed. 
Weeping she turned from those who could not fade, 
Nor cloud their light with grief, — her grief o'ercame 
All fear: still sought she Him whose blood was poured 
In agonies, which all transgressions healed ; 
But knew him not, her eyes in sorrow sealed. 
Until the accents of that voice restored 
To tenderness, said, " Mary ;" — to the word, 
■" IMaster," she answered, for He stood revealed. 



150 SONNETS. 



THE APPEAL. 



It rang upon her ear, the hideous name. 

And hurled at her — the world's red burning brand 

Inflicted with a stern remorseless hand 

On those thought guilty of a deed of shame ! 

And could she bear it ? She upon whom blame 

Erewhile so softly lighted, as though hand 

Of some kind Spirit changed to feathers bland 

The rod on her white innocence which came. 

Entranced she stands^ — one pang a moment wrings 

Her inmost being; then it rushes far 

From man's unrighteous cruel judgment-bar 

Into the presence of the King of Kings ! 

Appealing for her sentence to that Throne 

Where sits the Omniscient and all-loving One. 



SONNETS, 151 



THE BRIDE OF CHRIST. 



That picture but a fable can recall 
Where Catherine unto the infant Lord 
By golden ring is bound : Not one, but all 
Who love Christ's name, and live in sweet accord 
With Him and with each other blended, shall 
One mystic whole, wedded to Him, afford ; 
His Church ! His Bride ! whom nothing can appal 
While leaning upon Him who is the Word. 
The unbroken ring of vast Eternity 
And space unbounded, symbols are alone 
Of His eternal love, so deep, so high ; 
All knowledge passing, yet for ever known 
When, once more stooping to our clouded sky, 
Even as He is, Christ comes unto His own. 



152 SONNETS. 



THE LORD'S PRAYER, 



I. 

God taught a prayer to man — did it begin, 

" Omnipotent, Almighty, King of Kings, 

Thou that ridest on the Angels' wings. 

Forgive us, lying in the depths of sin"?-— • 

Not so : if thus man may implore, to win 

Pardon for evil that his bosom wrings. 

Yet God's surpassing love, for ever sings 

Of mercy through the Universe, and in 

A purified and cahn heart sings the same. 

With voice of perfect melody ; and nought 

Resists its power, once being by it taught. 

Thus spake that voice : " Our Father, be thy name 

Hallowed :" oh hallowed, yes ! The Saviour bought 

Our right to use it as a filial claim. 



SONNETS. 15B' 



THE LORD'S PBAYER. 



n. 

Oh what prayer can have sweeter utterance 

Than this, " Thy will be done, Thy will be done !" 

This unites Heaven with earth, and makes both one 

In a divine and holy governance. 

Above all fear and accident and chance. 

So safe it is to say " Thy will be done !" 

So blest it is, with God to be alone. 

Having no will but His, and thus enhance 

All love, all pleasure, all variety 

To joy unspeakable that yet is peace, 

In His all-comprehensive Unity ! 

His bounteous will from giving ne'er can cease. 

His gifts oppress not with satiety : 

From our own will, Father, us release ! 



154 SONNETS. 



THE LOED'S DAY. 



I. 

May Thy day lie as a white stone, oh Lord, 
Among the sullied slabs that pave the wide. 
Thronged ways of this world. Turning there aside 
For rest and ease, may we receive the Word, 
And call the breathing space Thou dost afford 
To desert-pilgrim, his oasis bright. 
Thine, honorable, holy, a delight, 
And speak Thy language, and in thoughts restored 
To freer commune with Thee, peaceful muse, 
Loosing from off our feet the galling shoes 
Of pilgrim garb, to stand secure from ill 
On holy ground. Thus win we* on our way 
Thy Presence, Friend of Friends, that so we may 
In week-day labour, love and serve Thee still ! 



SONNETS. 



155 



THE LORD'S DAY. 



II. 

Not thinking our own^thoughts, God's holy Day 
We, as of old, should keep : what thoughts are wound 
In this world's tangled web (wherein are bound 
So many) we should loose, and let them stray 
Throughout God's universe, and be alway 
Allied unto His thoughts. Above, around, 
Beneath, in depth, in height, our God is found ; 
In Him, through Him, and to Him let us pray ! 
The treasure of his thoughts all good supplies ; 
In Him is freedom ; let us contemplate 
As He did, resting above earth and skies, 
The vast creation which He made so great. 
And read Himself in all He did create — 
This shall not hinder us with Christ to rise ! 



TRANSLATIONS. 



159 



FROM THE SWEDISH. 



FRITHIOF AND INGEBORG. 

Erithiofs-Saga. Tegner. 



There grew in Hilding's garden fair 
Two plants 'neath foster-parents care. 
The North before had never seen 
Such lovely plants in valley green. 
One like an Oak its strength upreared. 
And as a lance its stem appeared ; 
The crown, that quivered in the storm, 
"Was rounded to a helmet's form. 
The other grew like Rose-hud bright, 
When ended is the winter's night. 
And spring lies dreaming in the rose, 
Till its sweet petals soft unclose. 



160 FEOM THE SWEDISH. 

But storms shall soon career along, 
With them the Oak shall wrestle strong, 
And to spring-sun, in heaven that glows, 
Shall ope the red lips of the Eose. 
So grew they up with sport and game. 
And Frithiof was the young Oak's name. 
But the bright Eose in vaUey lone 
As lovely Ingehorg was known. 
Shouldst thou view both in light of day. 
To Freya's house thy thought would stray, 
Where many a joyous bridal pair 
Soars with bright wings and golden hair : 
But in the moonbeams shouldst thou see 
Them dancing under leafy tree, 
Thou'dst think that 'neath its garlands green 
Danced the small Elf- King with his Queen. 
It was so dear, it was so glad, 
When his first rune by heart he had ; 
No King such honour e'er could earn. 
The rune from him did Ingborg learn. 
How glad in little bark was he 



FEITHIOF AND INGEBOEG. 161 

With her upon the dark blue sea ! 
How gaily, if the loose sail flapped. 
Her little hands so white she clapped ! 
No bird's nest could be found so high 
That there he climbed not fearlessly ; 
The Eagle's self, in clouds who hung, 
Was plundered of both eggs and young. 
There was no stream, so rapid e'er, 
He could not o'er it Ingborg bear ; 
It was so sweet, mid rushing sound, 
To feel her small arms clasp him round. 
The first flowers that on earth are spread. 
The strawberries that first were red. 
The first corn-ear of golden hue, 
He offered her, so glad and true. — 

But days of childhood soon go by ; 
A youth before us stands, with eye 
Of fiery glance, that hopes and prays, 
And there a maid with downcast gaze. 
To Frithiof that chase was dear 

M 



162 FEOM THE SWEDISH. 

WMch few could think on without fear. 
For the brave boy unarmed would quell 
Fierce bears that in the forest dwell. 
Breast unto breast with them he fought. 
And won the victory he sought ; 
With shaggy prize he came again,— 
Could he to maiden plead in vain ? 
]\Ian's com^age is to woman dear, 
She best loves him who knows no fear ; 
And beauty suits with strength, even so 
As helmet suits the warrior's brow. 

But if in winter eve he read, 
When fire-light thro' the great hall spread, 
A song of the Valhalla's^ glory, 
Of gods and goddesses the story, 
Freya, he thought, hath tresses fair. 
Like corn-field waved by summer air ; 
Thus Ingeborg's bright locks abound. 
Like gold net, rose and lily round. 
Iduna's bosom fair is seen 



FRITHIOF AND INGEBORG. 163 

Beauteous to heave 'neath robe of green ; 
I know a robe whose folds are prest 
Around a fairer, lovelier breast. 
And Frigga's eyes are lovely blue, 
Like to the heavens that we view ; 
But I know eyes near which I deem 
The blue spring-days but gloomy seem. 
Oh wherefore thus praise Gerda's cheeks, 
Snow o'er which northern radiance breaks ? 
I have seen cheeks —in kindling day 
Two morning dawns upon them lay. 
I know a heart that might be named 
With Nanna's, although not so famed. 
"Well may the Scalds thy praise resound, 
Balder, of Nanna worthy found ! 
Like thee in death I would be laid, 
If wept like thee by constant maid, 
As Nanna, tender, fond and true, 
I Hela's face should gladly view. 

But the King's daughter sat and sung 



164 FROM THE SWEDISH. 

A hero's song ; the shuttle flung 

With skill a hero's deeds portrayed, 

And bUlows blue, and greenwood shade. 

There gradual grew in wool so white 

Of woven gold the bucklers bright, 

And red-stained flew the battle's lances. 

While, silver worked, the strong mail glances. 

From day to day the shuttle flew. 

Like Frithiof the hero grew. 

And as from out the web looked he. 

Though blushing, yet rejoiced she. 

But Frithiof carved, where'er he came. 

An I, an F, for either name ; 

The bark-cut runes, in every weather. 

Grew, like the youthful hearts, together. 

When in the sky the Day shone fair. 

The World's-King, with the golden hair, 

And wakened men their labour sought, 

They of each other only thought. 

When in the sky Night made her lair, 

World's-Mother, with the dusky hair, 



FEITHIOF AND INGEBOEG-. 165 

And silence reigned, and bright stars shone, 

They of each other dreamed alone. 

" Thou Earth, that deck'st thyself each spring 

With flowers in thy green hair, oh bring 

To me the loveliest ; I wiU twine 

A wreath on Frithiof to shine." 

" Thou Sea, with thousand pearls is drest 

Thy dark hall 'neath the waves ; the best 

Give me, the fairest in it found. 

My Ingborg's neck to circle round." 

" Thou dais for Odin's Ejng-seat high, 

Thou golden Sun, the world's bright eye ! 

Wert thou but mine, thy buckler bright 

rd give to Frithiof for the fight." 

" Thou Moon, whose pale and gentle beam 

From the All-Father's home doth stream, 

Wert thou but mine, I'd give thee now 

To deck my beauteous maiden's brow." — 

But Hilding said, " Nay, Foster-son, 
Such love thou must not think upon ; 



166 FEOM THE SWEDISH. 

The lots of fate unequal fall : 
To Odin's self in star-lit hall 
Her lineage rises, and the maid 
King Bele's daughter is :" he said, 
" And thou hut Thorsten's son ; give heed. 
For like with like hath hest agreed." 
But Frithiof laughed : " My noble race 
Down to the dale of death I trace ; 
The Forest's King I late defied, 
And won his lineage with his hide. 
The free-horn man is ever strong, 
What does not to the free belong ? 
What Fortune snapped she can repair. 
And Hope a kingly crown doth wear. 
Power comes from noble source ; on high 
Dwells Thor, its father, in the sky ; 
To worth, not bfrth, is his award : 
A powerful wooer is the sword. 
I'd combat for my youthful Bride, 
Though I the thunder's-god defied ! 
Grow safe, my LHy white as snow. 
To those who separate us, woe !'' 



167 



KING BELE AND THORSTEN VIKINGSSON. 

/ 

Feithiofs-Saga. Tegner. 



King Bel^, resting on his sword, within the King's 

hall stood ; 
By him was Thorsten Vikingsson, the Peasant hrave 

and good, 
His ancient weapon-hrother, near a hundred years of 

age : 
All seamed with scars, like runic stone, appeared the 

white haired sage. 
They stood as amid mountains two temples where were 

made 
Offerings to heathen Deities, now half in ruins laid, 
But many truths of wisdom the graven walls yet tell, 
And lofty memories of old within the arches dwell. 



168 FEOM THE SWEDISH. 

" It draweth towards the evening " King Bele said, 

" and now 
The mead I like not, and my helm is heavy on my brow, 
Before mine eyes the fates of men dark and confiised 

appear, 
Death I forbode, for Valhalla sliines nearer and more 

near. 
I have summoned my two sons, and also thine to me, 
For to each other they belong, united as are we. 
A father's warning I will give unto the eagles young, 
Before the words all slumber upon the dead man's 

tongue." 

Then as the King commanded, they entered in the hall, 
And the dark form of Helga stern came in the first 

of all. 
Amid Diviners round the altar he loved best to stand, 
And came from groves of sacrifice with blood upon his 

hand. 
After him followed Halfdan, effeminate fair youth, 
Each feature although noble, too soft and weak in sooth. 



KING BELE. 169 

He by his side, for sport alone, seemed belted sword to 

bear, 
Like a disguised Maiden, who the Hero's garb would wear. 
But after him came Frithiof, wrapped in a mantle blue, 
A full head he was taller than both the other two : 
He stood between the brothers, as Day in cloudless light, 
Between the rosy morning, and shadowy, gloomy Night. 

" Ye Sons," then said the dying King, " full soon my 

reign must cease. 
In concord rule the realm I leave ; in brother's love and 

peace : 
For concord holds together, 'tis like the ring about 
The lance, however tough and long, it hath no strength 

without. 
To watch and guard your country's gate let Vigour ever 

stand^ 
And Peace, in stream-encircled place, bloom in your 

happy land. 
The sword is given for defence, but not for any harm. 
The s;hield is for a padlock forged, securing Peasant's farm. 



170 FROM THE SWEDISH. 

The oppressor of his subject reahn must he a senseless 

man. 
For the King only dares and does that which his People 

can. 
The green-leaf crown must wither, when dries the sap 

that fills 
Those stems with life that cover now the lofty barren 

hills. 
Upon four mighty pillars the heaven's cu'cle stands, 
But thrones are founded only upon earth's shifting sands. 
When Power dooms instead of Eight, it soon will ruin 

bring. 
Right is the country's piety, the honour of the King. 
Helga ! within Disar's Hall the gods indeed may 

dwell, 
But not as snails are closed within the compass of their 

sheU. 
As far as light of day may shine, as voice of man may 

sound. 
As far as thought itself may fly, the great gods dwell 

around. 



KING BELE. 171 

Within the Falcon sacrificed the priestly signs may fail, 
And false are many graven runes, false and of no avail, 
But in the sound and righteous heart, Helga, this 

believe, 
Odin hath written holy runes that never can deceive. 
Be never hard, King Helga, though firm in thy intent, 
The sword that hites the sharpest, most easily is bent : 
Mildness adorns a King, as flowers the shield of War- 
rior bold. 
And Spring days bring more wealth with -them than the 

long winter's cold. 
A man, however strong he be, who has no friends 

' around, 
May die as stem in wilderness, whose bark has felt a 

wound: 
But well the friendly man will thrive, as tree within a wood. 
Whose roots are watered by a brook ; where rude storms 

are withstood. 
Boast not thy Father's honour, each has but his alone, 
Canst thou not bend thy father's bow ? then it is not thine 
own. 



172 FROM THE SWEDISH. 

What wilt thou with the worth that lies buried in ancient 

graves ? 
The strong stream through the ocean goes by force of its 

own waves. 

Thou, Half dan, joyous temper the wise a gain may call. 
But idle talk beseemeth none, and Kings the least of alL 
Not only with sweet honey, but with hops the mead is 

brewed, 
Put steel i' the sword, with soberness be even sport pursued 
None e'er had too much knowledge, however much they 

sought. 
And many know so little that it is next to nought. 
The ignorant in lofty seat is scorned, although thus graced, 
But wisdom hath the ear of all, however lowly placed. 
Oh Halfdan, to the faithful friend, to Foster-brother dear 
However distant he may dwell, the way is ever near ; 
But off thy path, and unapproached, as though it far did 

lie, 
The fortress of thy foeman stands, let it be ne'er so nigh. 
Whoever pleases thee, think not as confidant to choose, 



KING BELE. 173 

To empty house leave open door, the rich house careful 

close. 
Choose one, a second will be then but useless unto thee. 
And the world knows, oh Halfdan, that which is known 

to three."— 

Thereafter up stood Thorstan, and calmly he spoke so ; 
" Let not the King have hope alone to Odin's halls to go, 
We shared in all life's changes, its happiness, its care, 
And death I hope, King Bele, we even so shall share. 
Son Frithiof, to me old age has whispered in the ear 
Full many a warning, and the same thou now from me 

shalt hear. 
On the sepulchral mount swoop down i' the north great 

Odin's birds. 
And from the old man's lips you may hear many true 

wise words. — 
First, honour the high gods, for good and ill alike are 

given 
By them, descending as the storm and sunshine from their 

heaven. 



174 FKOM THE SWEDISH. 

They see in the heart's secret vault, be it closed ne'er so 

fast ; 
And what an hour prepares long years may bring to light 

at last. 
Obey the King ; with sense and power let one hand steer 

alone ; 
Dim Night indeed hath many eyes, but Day hath only one. 
Unto the better, Frithiof, still let the best succeed, 
The sword that needs a sharpened point, the hilt will also 

need. 
If great strength be a gift divine, yet, Frithiof, bear in 

' mind 
That strength but little brings to pass which wisdom does 

not find. 
The bear has twelve men's strength in one, yet but his 

bearish paw : 
Against the sword-stroke hold the shield ; 'gaiost violence 

use law. 
Dread thou to act too proud a part, and hated be of all, 
For arrogance, Frithiof, still comes before a fall. 
I have seen many fly aloft, that now on crutches go. 



KING BELE. 175 

For weather helps the harvest growth, and winds will 

Fortune blow. 
Day shalt thou prize when, sets the sun, behind high hills 

concealed, 
And ale when quaffed, and counsel when time hath its 

worth revealed. 
In many things the young confide, on many men depend, 
But conflict proves the sword they wear, and need will 

prove the friend. 
Trust not to ice but one night old, trust not the spring 

day's snow, 
Nor sleeping snake, nor maid caressed, who whispereth 

soft and low ; 
For woman's bosom turneth oft upon a rolling wheel, 
And as its lilies waver, so the passions women feel. 
ThyseK must die, and all to thee belonging die also, 
But one thing which will never die, Frithiof, I know ; 
And that is Verdict on dead men : therefore I counsel thee 
That what is noble thou shalt will, and what is evil flee. 

So warned the ancient warrior, within the kingly hall, 



176 FEOM THE SWEDISH. 

As Skalds have since their warnings given, sitting in 

Havamal. 
From age to age descending came the words of lasting 

worth, 
And deep they whisper even now from gravestones in the 

north. 

And afterwards they both did speak in many heartfelt 

words 
Of heir weU proved friendship, which the North with 

fame records : 
How constant to the hour of death, in gladness and in 

need, 
Like two clasped hands together joined, they ever had 

agreed. 
" With back to back we stood prepared, and therefore 

to each one, 
Howe'er Fate came, she only struck upon a shield, 

my son ! 
Before you to Valhalla we old men haste away. 
But may your Fathers' spirit here upon you all yet stay." 



KING BELE. 177 

And much the aged King then spoke of Frithiof's courage 

bold. 
Of hero's strength, which has more worth than kingly 

Wood of old : 
And of the Splendour Thorsten spoke, to Asa's sons a 

crown, 
The great Kings of the mighty North, and heirs to its 

renown. 
" And hold you all together, ye noble sons all three, 
Greater than you, I know it well, the North shall never 

see; 
For strength to kingly dignity unfailingly is knit, 
'Tis like the dark blue rim of steel, which golden shield 

doth fit. 
And greet from me my daughter, the rose-bud yet 

unblown, 
Sheltered, as best beseeming, she hitherto hath grown ; 
Surround her, let not any storm come in an evil hour, 
And bear away with rushing blast my fair and tender 

flower. 
On thee, Helga, I impose a father's love and care, 



178 FROM THE SWEDISH. 

That as a daughter Ingehorg thy tenderness may share. 
Constraint provokes a noble mind, but tenderness will 

lead 
Both man and woman, Helga, to right and noble deed. 
But lay us side by side, ye sons, in piled barrows two. 
And let on each side roll the Fiorde, with all its billows 

blue ; 
Since e'en for spirits of the dead delightful is its song, 
And like heroic lays resound its blows the strand along. 
.When o'er the mountains spreads the moon her radiance 

pale and fair, 
And midnight- days on Baulasten fall through the colder air, 
Then shall we sit, oh Thorsten brave, on round piled 

thrones of state. 
And speak across the waters wide of the events of fate. 
And now farewell ye sons, no more we wander here 

below. 
Our journey to All-Father is, and we long there to go, 
Even as the weary river longs in ocean to repose : 
Frey, Thor and Odin bless you all, when we our eyes 

shall close. 



179 



INGEBORG'S LAMENT. 



From the Frithiofs-Saga. Tegner. 



'Tis Autumn now ; 
Ocean raises his hoary brow. 
Ah, yet upon the sea 
I'd gladly be ! 

I watched Ml long 

The sail in the west, that flew so strong. 

Ah ! Frithiof to follow 

Were joy, upon the billow. 

Billow, thou blue, 

Swell not so high, o'er thee he flew. 

Shine stars, and say 

To him the way ! 



180 PEOM THE SWEDISH. 

When it is Spring, 

He will come home, hut the loved shall bring 

To liim in hall no greeting. 

In vale no meeting ; 



She, in the mould 

For her love's sake lies pale and cold. 

Or, victim, is lamenting 

To brother unrelenting. 

Falcon forsaken. 

Thee for his sake I've taken. 

I'U feed and I'U watch over 



The winged rover. 



Here on his hand 

In this broidery I work thee fair to stand, 

Here thy rich claws of gold 

And silver wings behold. 



INaEBOEG'S LAMENT. 181 



Falcon-wings bore 
Freya once wide regions o'er. 
Both south and north she roved 
Seeking the Fates heloved. 



Shouldst thou spare me 

Thy wings awhile, they would not bear me. 

Death only to me brings 

The goddess' wings. 

Beauteous Rover, 

On my shoulder sitting, gaze the sea over. 

Ah ! we may look and mourn, 

He'll not return ! 



When I am dead 

He'll surely come, remember what I said ; 

My salutation keeping, 

For Frithiof weeping ! 



182 



BOYS. 

Anna Maeia Lenngeen. 



My memory keeps the treasure 

As if but one day backj 
Of times when guiltless pleasure 

Close followed in my track ; 
Vice as a witch was hated, 

Dull care crept out of sight. 
And all, my lesson bated, 

I pleasant found and light. 

Upon my lips was laughter, 
And health was in my blood, 

No need to hunt joy after. 
All people I thought good ; 



BOYS. 183 



Eaeli boy to me was brother, 

So frolicsome and gay ; 
Girls sisters, matrons mothers 

Were, in life's dawning day. 

The free fields are before me, 

To memory still the same, 
Where I as hero bore me 

In many an active game ; 
The thousand pranks when rushing 

In summer's fresh pure wind, 
Crimson the smooth cheek flushing, 

The hat with flowers twined. 

Of falsehood and of cheating 

As yet I nothing knew, 
Each merry playmate meeting 

As trusty friend and true ; 
Of wrath in secret cherished 

We never knew the smart, 
For with one blow there perished 

All anger from the heart 



184 FEOM THE SWEDISH. 

No difference of persons 

I saw in play's delight ; 
For peasant-boys and Barons 

Were equal in my sight ; 
In giddy glad existence 

The one who threw the ball 
Best and to greatest distance 

Was first among us all. 

We thought not of concealing 

The truth for praise or blame. 
Justice itself revealing 

E'en in our slightest game. 
'Mongst us the lad most tattered 

The prize for sMU might take 
(By law that never flattered) 

From Count who made mistake. 

Ah what was our dejection, 
How felt each tender heart 

When chiding and correction 
Had made some playmate smart ! 



BOYS. 185 

How glad again receiving 

Him who had felt the stroke ! 
My one cake with the grieviag 

I, to console him, broke. 

But, childhood's Mends, Time tries you, 

And altered now ye show ! 
I no more recognize you, 

And me ye do not know. 
As statesmen now are living 

The former hoys so bright, 
For feasts and dainties striving ; 

And they for titles fight. 

With forty years gone o'er them 

Uneasily they strain 
Up the steep hill before them 

The temple to attain 
Of Fortune.' — ^What bestows there, 

The Dame sought in each land ? 
Cold heart 'neath star that glows there, 

Pale cheek and ribbon grand. 



186 



CASTLE AND COTTAGE. 

Anna MAHidi Lenngren. 



I have a habitation, 

And mine it is, though small : 
You bow with veneration 

To enter it at all. 

Little above the ground stands 
My cot ; low is my state ; 

But in the park's wide bound stands 
A castle high and great. 

His pomp and splendour keeping 
A Lord you there may see ; 

But when I soft am sleeping 
Ah ! so cannot do he. 



CASTLE AND COTTAGE. 187 

A courtier is his Worship, 

A splendid star he wears ; 
But oh, poor gracious Lordship, 

How unhlest he appears ! 



As I hefore my dwelling 
One evening sat at ease, 

His noisy dogs were telling 
His coming thro' the trees. 



His Worship came hefore me 
As, best delighted, I 

To Providence still o'er me 
Sang out in harmless joy. 

It was a song I'd striven 
Myself to make and find, 

To praise the Lord of Heaven 
For peace and quiet mind : 



188 FEOM THE SWEDISH. 

For health and for existence, 
For, after toil, repose, 

For Father's care, subsistence. 
And days that fearless close. 



Upon his gun there leaning 
His Worship heard my song ; 

Attentive to its meaning. 
Then thoughtful went along. 



He gave a sigh of sadness — 
Ha ! well I understood : 

" Give me thy heartfelt gladness, 
And take my Castle good ! " 

Then I mine eyes uplifted 
To Him who gave to aU ; 

The great with Castles gifted, 
With happiness the smaU. 



189 



THE MOTHER BY THE CRADLE. 



/ 
Franzen. 



Hush! hush! 
Mother sing and baby list. 

Hush! hush! 
Pearls lie on each flower's breast, 
Babe on Mother's arm finds rest. 

Linnet, do not spill 

Flower-pearls, be still. 
Puss and spaniel, silence keep 
That the little one may sleep. 

Hush! hush! 
Baby, hush, by Mother kist. 

Hush! hush! 
Flowers reclose their buds that blow, 
Baby with his eyes does so. 



190 FEOM THE SWEDISH. 

Ah, do they still peep ? 

Soft ! cry not, but sleep ! 
Thou wilt in thy cradle He, 
Under Mother's watchful eye. 

Hush! hush! 
Mother sing and baby list. 

Hush ! hush ! 
Birds lie safely in their nests ; 
Baby in his cradle rests. 

No troubled thoughts there stir 

Of Pope or Emperor. 
Under Mother's hand and song. 
Softly moY^s his world along. 

Hush ! hush ! 
Baby sleeps nor doth resist. 

Hush ! hush ! 
What sleeps yet in bud confined ? 
Hope deceived and wishes blind ! 



THE MOTHEE. 191 

A worm, there now concealed, 

To rule when once revealed, 
Blight the flower, the fruit destroy, 
Sorrow cast on all my joy ! 



Hush ! hush ! 
Baby sleep and Mother list. 

Hush! hush! 
No one shall destroy thee here, 
Mother's heart to thee is near. 

Soon will the bird's wings grow, 

Far from me it wiU go. 
Know I when he flies my bound 
Where his haven shall be found ? 

Hush ! hush ! 
Sleep and wake by Mother kist. 

Hush ! hush ! 
Sleep, innocent, from sorrow free : 
Thy Mother's eye is over thee. 



192 FEOM THE SWEDISH. 

When thou shalt wake indeed 
Its absent care to need, 
Look then with faith and hope on high 
Towards a Heavenly Fathers eye. 



193 



GOD'S WILL BE DONE ! 



Franzen. 



Be thy will done ! Howe'er bend 
Time its course ; though we may see 

Much we do not comprehend, 
Thankful still we cry to Thee : 

God, Thy will be done ! 

Be Thy will done ! Yes, this prayer 

Us befits in weal and woe, 
It makes gladness yet more fair, 

Grief has comfort, praying so : 
God, Thy will be done ! 



194 FEOM THE SWEDISH. 

Be Thy will done ! As 'tis done 

In all worlds wMcli Thou dost guide. 
So below, in us each one, 
In each breath unto Thee sighed, 
God, Thy will be done ! 

Be Thy will done in our North ; 

People, King and Council lead ; 
Bind our wills with grace poured forth ; 

With Thy word our freedom lead : 
Thy hallowed wiU be done ! 



195 



DEATH. 



Geijer. 



In weakness all my powers bow, 
No liglit, no warmtli is given me now, 
Life's strength departs, and faint am 1, 
My sun goes down, and night is nigh. 

A quiet dwelling waits me, deep 
Below, a bed for dreamless sleep. 
Watchmen are there unheard by me, 
Time there is called Eternity. 

Atoner, who hast sanctified 
Our life, our grave ; Christ, who died 
Bearing our guilt, man's truest Friend, 
In death's dark moment o'er me bend ! 



196 FEOM THE SWEDISH. 

Take thou the spirit that now flies, 
Jesus, cleanse it for the skies, 
Such as when pure it first was given 
By our Father high in Heaven. 

My fetters break ! Yes, I shall see, 
My Brother and my Saviour, Thee, 
In God's eternal glory clear, — 
Yes, Lord, I come !— Ah, thou art here ! 



197 



SUNDAY MOENING. 

Wallin. 



Hear, in free space sweetly sounding, 

Festive voice of holy bell ; 
See how come, at its resounding, 

Those who love its summons well. 
Follow then, my heart, the appointed 

Worship-hour to solemnize, 
Where the temple's spire is pointed 

See'st thou not the radiant skies ? 

Ah, how cruel Time persisted 

To take all that I held dear ! 
Wreaths of Death alone are twisted 

Of flowers plucked without a fear 

See the Spring again returning ; 

With new buds the earth is gay ; 
But what I am fondly mourning 

From my heart is gone away I 



198 FEOM THE SWEDISH. 

Gone indeed ?— The day declareth 

To my soul that Heaven is near. 
That the good for aye endureth, 

For my true weal shall appear. 
The same love o'er earth and Heaven 

Holds us in its kind embrace, 
In each storm a hand is given 

Guiding to the port of peace. 

Hearts that tenderly united. 

Here are one in friendship's band ! 
Kindred souls, who seek delighted. 

The same holy Fatherland ! 
Earth's small grievances recall not, 

Nor recall her false dehght ; 
Gloomy clouds the Heavens pall not 

From a true Believer's sight. 

Let our voices blend in union 

With the sacred hymn and prayer. 

In one spirit have communion, 
The same grace receive and share ; 



SUNDAY MOENING. 199 

Power to overcome world- dreaming, 

Patience, meekness be bestowed. 
And, while contrite tears are streaming, 

Heartfelt trust tbat God is good. 

Hear ye not, how sweetly gliding 

Swells to Heaven united praise ? 
How the faithful are confiding 

Unto God their works and ways ? 
Those, who arms of prayer are twining 

Round the stem of Jesus' Cross, 
Those, whose star is ne'er declining, 

Follow without fear of loss. 

Oh my heart ! yes, God is near thee, 

Ope thyself, and gladly know 
The good Spirit that shall bear thee 

Power and comfort e'en below ! 
Glorious beams are Heaven adorning. 

Mists disperse themselves and fly. 
And the bright eternal morning 

Dawns for Faith's uplifted eye ! 



200 



THE WATEE LILY. 
Feom " The Neighbours." 

Frederika Bremer. 



Upon the clear waves floating 
A flower pui-e and white 

Is to the sun devoting 
Her service with delight. 

And faithfally she gazes 
Up to the sky above, 

Her eye to heaven she raises 
In offering of love. 

So on the waters living, 
Beauteous as Angels' prayer, 

Not longing and not striving 
JEer love rewards her there. 



THE WATEE LILY. 201 

When storms in wrath awaken, 

And heavy falls the rain. 
She in a calm unshaken 

Though tearful, will remain. 

And from the shore not swerving 

Near which her cradle lay. 
Looks to the King she's serving 

And hopes a better day. 



Now is the storm subsiding 
And purple evening flings 

Its pearl- dew out — ^while gliding 
O'er waves sweet music rings. 

In the deep's silver halls then 
His harp the NecF strikes clear, 

He on the lily calls then, 
And tells of love most dear. 



202 FKOM THE SWEDISH. 

" Come, see how many a wonder 
Here is surromiding me, 

The deep's green caverns mider 
I'll sweetly sing for thee. 



" 'Tis cool where shells are lining 
These many coloured caves, 

Come down from the sun's shining 
Where love sits 'neath the waves." 



But the white flower raises 
Her glance to the blue sMes, 

On the world of light she gazes 
And to the Neck rephes. 



" If of my love thou'rt dreaming. 
Come up, come up to me, 

But where God's sun is beaming 
Can I belong to thee. 



THE WATEE LILY. 203 

" No more below reclining, 

The water's minstrel-King, 
Come see how Heaven is shining, 

And light and love here sing." 



From dreams the Neck awaketh, 
" So dark it is below !— " 

His first joy he forsaketh, 
And is consumed with woe. 



DYING SONG. 

Fkom the "President's Daughters." 

Frederika Bremer. 



'Tis past ! New light in life I now perceive, 

And I will sing, because I gladly die. 
The shore indeed is lovely that I leave. 

But lovelier, o'er the waters, I espy 
The islands of the blest I shall attain. 
I sing, because I die ! free from each band 

The spirit rises out of earth's restraint. 
Farewell ! I fly to the illumined land, 

And with a sweeter song, no more thus faint, 
My life, my love renewed shall sing again. 



205 



I THIKST! 

From the "President's Daughter. 

Frederika Bremer. 



I thirst ! oh give me of the fresh pure brook 

In which of old might Eden's roses look. 

The clear and glorious fountain, brightly flowing, 

The ever young, whose soft wave, health bestowing, 

Smiles to Angelic glances, and is sweet, 

With holy Wisdom's purest gold replete. 

I thirst ! oh fount of truth so clear and good. 

Give freshness to my fever-maddened blood, 

To the sick heart both strength and courage lending, 

From fearful images mine eye defending ; 

Ah, might I quench indeed my thirst in thee, 

I should, as thou, a heavenly mirror be. 



206 FROM THE SWEDISH. 

I thirst ! God, fountain immense of love, 
Eternal life gleams from thy throne above. 
Give me a drop ! my parched lips are burning. 
No cordial in the desert world discerning, 
Whose vapid streams impure revive not me, — 
I thirst but for eternity and Thee ! 



207 



FROM THE DANISH. 

EXTRACTS FROM VALDEMAR THE GREAT 

AND HIS MEN, 
An Historical Poem by Ingemann. 



Thus Denmark's agony for aid appealed, 
Now openly to Axel's eyes revealed. 
With Denmark's misery he sighed of late, 
Open to enemies stood Denmark's gate. 
Where'er with fond domestic look he gazed, 
Castles and towns appeared, to ruins razed. 
The Danish voice shall not delight his ear 
Before the wail of fugitives he hear ; 
And hatred's sharp discordant tones ring forth 



208 FROM THE DANISH. 

E'en in the loving language of tlie North. 
King Knud augments his strength with Saxon men 
King Svend in Roskild arms himself agen : 
Amid the King of Zealand's chosen band 
Duke Valdemar and Asbiom Snare stand. 
Axel the White to them his banner brings, 
The sword of battle broad beside him swings, 
His ample breast a gleaming cuirass wears ; 
Him the grey Danish steed with pleasure bears. 
The war-axe clashes at the saddle bow ; 
The ermine mantle's folds about him flow, 
And wrap his broad and manly shoulders round. 
Upon the roe-skin boots the gold spurs sound. 
The golden crown-hart springs in Axel's shield, 
And deep within its heavenly azure field 
Are one and twenty little stars of gold : 
Who sees him seems a monarch to behold, 
But whoso views beneath his helm's defence, 
As with the highest God in confidence, 
The soul clear shining in his look and mien, 
Of quiet strength, decided and serene, 



VALDEMAR THE GREAT. 209 

He deems he sees, in princely garb arrayed, 
In pomp of cMvalry, with arms to aid, 
A champion of the Church, her faithful Knight, 
Who in the world for soul's repose will fight ; 
And, combating below, can stedfastly 
Wage holy warfare for eternity. 

By Axel's side rides all awry, 

Out o'er the saddle bending, 
His Scribe, (the Clerk's cowl o'er his eye) 

In thoughtful silence wending. 

While on his cheek the moon-beam dwells, 

The scholar's toil by light 
Of lamp, his aspect truly tells, 

In wakeful winter night. 

The spring-seed down grows on the chin, 

The brow is winter-furrowed ; 
Almost, the cloisters grey within. 
His hair their greyness borrowed. 

p 



210 FEOM THE DANISH. 

In books and writings he hath skill, 
None as a Knight to ride ; 

He jolts on like a rustic still, 
Heel in his horse's side. 

His absent mind away is gone, 
Present with ages past ; 

On his right haunch is buckled on 
The empty scabbard fast. 

Oft Axel at his friend must smile, 
And at his strange demeanour ; 

But oft, with high esteem the while, 
Lauds him in terms of honour. 

In aspect stranger yet to see 
With the sealskin cap is he 
Of savage beard, who, in bear's hide. 
Club and dagger by his side. 
Banner bears through light and dark. 
Following the Knight and Clerk. 



VALDEMAR THE GREAT. 211 



Squire at arms is Arnold old, 
Little, muscular and bold : 
Tales he knows of ancient days 
In the Scald's bequeathed lays. 
Which he glad recalls again. 
Not for learning seeks he praise : 
At dust of Schools and cloister-phrase 
In his beard he smiles disdain. 
But the Seer's spirit dwells 
In him, the old man's soul it swells, 
Deep and mysterious as the sea : 
And of the Lord's impending doom, 
And of the times that are to come, 
What he darkly can forebode 
His giant voice oft warns aloud, 
Wild as Northern Elf's might be. 



Their coursers' track sinks in the snow, 
Foremost is Asbiorn Snare, 



212 FROM THE DANISH. 

And long dotli earnest converse flow 

Between tlie brother pair. 
The compact with Zealand's Monarch made 

By Valdemar, pleases them ill, 
Yet the hands that need together laid, 

The same need may sever still. 
But the Roskild Brothers' great emprize, 

The fame of the Ocean Knight, 
With the pious league that aid supplies, 

The Brothers much dehght. 
Of new made Guilds and plans supprest 

Tells Rumour's double tongue ; 
Yet Axel open deeds likes best. 

To honom- they belong. 

•• But, Brother dear, now teU to me, 

How may the Lady Kirstin be, 

Sister of high-born Valdemar ? 

Her fame hath reached to countries far." — 

So asked Sir Axel hastily, 

And with anticipating eye. 



VALDEMAR THE GREAT. 213 

AsMorn to answer made no haste : 
" I think my steed his shoe will cast." 
" She is not married yet ?" pursued 
Axel in quick impetuous mood. 
" When I went forth from Denmark's land 
She dreamed not of betrothal-band ; 
With her Foster-Mother m Bower-room 
She sat and sewed, or wove i' the loom ; 
But to that child might none compare," 

" In Denmark's Realm is none more fair," 
With reddened cheek Sir Asbiorn said ; 
*' Yet, of peculiar mind, the maid 
Whom pleases best is hard to tell. 
And scarcely any please her well. 
But thou wilt startle at my word 
When thou my secret dear hast heard. 
Thou knowest, when we together played. 
She mirthfully our Queen was made — 
When thou in other lands didst ride, 
She was called in sport my little Bride. 



214: FEOM THE DANISH. 

But the jest had end as she grew in height, 
Yet I dreamed of her almost each night. 
And see ! I sat in the month of May 
With Valdemar in the woods one day ; 
We drank both mead and clear wine there, 
And our talk fell on Kirstin fair. 
I grasped the Chiefs hand heartily, 
And boldly said, not boastingly : 
•' The white Skialm's race as a King's is good, 
To you noble Chief, I give my blood, 
For you I lay down my youthful life, 
But give me little Kirstin to wife.' " 

The Duke made answer in mirthful sort, 
' My sister knows but of childish sport, 
Your garments to make she lacks the skill.' 
Silent I thought' — She can learn if she will ! 
So thereon to Kib6-town I rode. 
And, sending to the maid's abode 
From thence fair silks and Sindal new. 
Asked Lady Kirstin the robe to sew. 



VALDEMAR THE GREAT. 215 

She smiled, and to her chamber went 
To sew it to her own content — 
And — blessings on the fingers small ! 
I love this court robe mine to call, 
Concerning which I heard so oft 
The Danish maidens singing soft. 

' " She sewed upon his garment's seam 
Fish gliding in the rapid stream. 

Upon his shoulder he shall wear 
Fifteen Knights with swords made bare. 

Around his arms enwreathed advance 
Fifteen maidens in a dance. 

And last she sewed upon his breast 
How the Knight the maiden kist.' " 

So carols Asbiorn Snare, gay. 

And his fair tunic shows ; 
There fish within the swift stream play, 

There stand the Knights in rows. 



^16 FEOM THE DA^sISH. 

He lets in playfal prancings slioot 

Forward his coui'ser ligM, — • 
But Axel sits as pale and mute 

As sculptui'ed marble Knight. 
He sees the red dawn, spreading wide-, 

Eoskild Cathedral fire ; 
" See, brother, see, my lofty Bride 

Beckons with crown and spire ! 
It seems as though my lance would bend 

Unto a Shepherd's crook ; 
The Bride whom I for mine intend 

Stands glorious yonder, look ! 
3Iy life on earth, if God allow, 

With Denmark's Church abides, 
My Bride I seek as high as thou, 

Us both Skialm's spirit guides. 
Like liim thou bravely arms canst wield> 

Thy luck seek high and bold, 
And, as the eagle on his shield. 

Build thou in mountain hold. 
My tabernacle I prepare 



YALDEMAR THE GREAT. 217 

Upon the Church hearthstone. 
A single Warrior shall stand there, 
And faithful fall, alone." 

** Though but one Eagle's claw be mine," 

Then Asbiorn Snare replies, 
" It lets me ne'er in rest recline, 

But with me high will rise. 
Thy Hart can make a spring as bold. 

Thy stars beam high and bright ; 
But do not choose the Church, 'tis cold. 

Death lurks there out of sight. 
For shouldst thou sit on Eskild's seat, 

Kings fearing threat of thine. 
Thy life, a sun devoid of heat, 

Would yet unfruitful shine." 

" Brother !" — answered Axel white, 

" Not to pomp my life I vow, 
I the holy strife will fight. 

Give to Denmark fruit as thou. 



218 FROM THE DANISH. 

Need the stem of WMte Skialm die 

Though one hranch to God be given 
To bear forth a standard high 

In a warfare blessed of Heaven ? 
Winning the Lord's victories 

Not unfruitfnlly it waves, 
From the Church tower it will rise 

O'er free warriors' honoured graves." 

With voice of power thus spake the Knight,^ 
His warrior breast heaved high its might. 
Him his twin brother silently scanned, 
But that shining glance could not understand ; 
Of the difficult contest he never dreams, 
Nor the victory which in that clear eye beams 
But with quiet soul looks out on life, 
And sees the palm for its worldly strife. 

The sunshine over Issefiord casts 
On shipping, and their forest masts 
Its radiance, and upon the to\vn 
Unto the warrior's eyes well known. 



VALDEMAE THE GEEAT. 219 

Old Roskild with Mgh towers up-springs, 
With buttress, moat and cloister wings. 
Where Haraldshorg clear waters lave. 
White flags with mighty eagles wave : 
St. Clara's bells for Mass now sound, 
From twenty towers the peals resound ; 
But the highest and most powerful calls 
Loud from St. Lucy's warrior halls. 

Silent, and quiet in deep thought 
Sir Axel's gaze the Minster sought. 
Where turns the mill the river's force 
The maiden's bower stands by the source. 
Asbiorn, who saw a lattice shine. 
Open, with beckoning hand made sign. 
There, by St. Oluf's waters bright 
Waved in the sun a kerchief white ; 
A maiden form his quick glance caught. 
Little Kirstin was it then ? he thought — 
And he spurred his courser to quicker bound ; 
On Roskild's bridge the horse-hoofs sound. 



220 FEOM THE DANISH. 

On the lattice sunshine played, 

On the reddened wall it glowed. 
More than one noble maid 

Adorned the fair abode. 
Little Kirstin there at ease 

Sports by the sewing-board. 
And cunningly can teaze 

The maids with roguish word^ 
Small handmaids her adorn 

"With princely linen white. 
With scarlet bodice, worn 

Close to her figure slight. 
The handmaids in her shoes 

Place ribbons as she sits. 
Through her small fingers flows 

The golden hair she plaits. 
Of maid betrothed and lover 

She hums a mirthful lay ; 
Her mirror-shield bends over,. 

And, as a child, is gay. 
Serious, and dark of eye, 



VALDEMAR THE GEEAT. 221 

With silver-crested head, 
Proud Ingefried the high 

I' the loom threw golden thread. 
A silver girdle bound 

Her robe of ocean-blue, 
And at her side were found 

Needles, and sharp knife too. 
Whoe'er White Axel knows. 

Whoe'er saw Asbiorn's face 
Need ask none to disclose 

Their sister's name and race. 
Skialm's lineage declares 

In her features proud its sway, 
If she is wroth, it scares 

The handmaidens away. 
Yet her cheeks do not glow, 

But, quiet, stern and cold, 
She has the Nomen's brow 

From heathen times of old. 
A shoulder- scarf she weaves 
Of blue and gold alone, 



222 FROM THE DANISH. 

An Elephant upheaves 
Its wanior tower thereon. 

With the huge beast a Knight 
A combat bold pursued, 

It bowed before his might, 
On bloody knee subdued. 

From the curious web glide over 

Her looks to the wateiy track, 
Where the proud ships of the Rover 

Return with booty back. 
The Viking's vessels bring 

It now the coast along ; 
She hears the wild notes ring 

Of the Warriors' pious song. 
On sails filled with the breeze 

A badge she can discover, 
And at the helm she sees 

Strong Vetteman, her lover. 
Ingefried at the view 

Her large dark eyes casts down. 



VALDEMAE THE GREAT. 223 

From her white hands anew 
The golden spool is thrown. 

But in a nook alone 

Fair Huldfrid lace is twining, 

Singing in soft low tone, 

The words to her heart confining. 
Over the light bine eye 

Falls down the flaxen hair ; 

'GaiQSt golden broidery- 
Throbs quick her bosom fair. 

Of knightly troop at speed 

She heard the tramp and din, 
And Asbiorn on his steed 

Saw to the town come in. 
She waved the linen white 

The open lattice thro'; 
But then with blushes bright 

Back to her corner drew. 

Gay Kirstin will not spare 



224: FKOM THE DANISH. 

The Maiden's rosy blush, 
" Do foes, Hiddfrid fair. 

Into our city rush ? 
Thou sitt'st in the hearth nook 

Like the red embers burning, 
Hath a Ejiight met thy look 

In silk and gold returning ?" 

"■ I saw the knight go by 

Whose tunic was from you, 
He waved his hand on high. 

That the whole town saw too." 
The lady tossed her head, 

Subtle and shrewd was she ; 
" The Knight makes too much speed. 

But the fault lies not with me. 
I sewed upon the seam 

The Knights in wreath advancing, 
I sewed fish in the stream, 

And merry maidens dancing ; 
But who sewed on his breast 



VALDEMAE THE GREAT. 225 

The image, secretly, 
Of the bold knight that kist 

The Maiden, fair and shy ? 
Who at the midnight hour 

Hath played at such a game ? 
Small Brownies used their power, 

I wot, and hear the blame. 
Fair Huldfrid coyly sews 

And pricks her fingers small, 
And though the red blood flows 

She heeds it not at all. 

But little Kirstin turned to see 

The web of Ingefried : 
" That shoulder- scarf well pleases me, 

It asks both skill and heed. 
Who was the Prince whose arm 

Subdued a beast so great ; 
Did he escape all harm ? 

Po thou the tale relate !" 
" To princely blood and actions high 



226 FEOM THE DANISH. 

He needs assert no claim, 
Whose trace is found in time gone by. 

Whose deeds are known to fame. 
To Austria and to Afric's strand 

So many warriors went ; 
But 'twas the sea-knight Vetteman 

Who slew the Elephant." 
So answered then proud Ingefried, 

But Kirstin's smile was gay ; 
" That was a combat strange indeed : 

More of him canst thou say ? 
Perhaps he swam the Jordan o'er 

In brave Crusader's guise. 
Perhaps each bulrush on the shore 

Could tell his Mistress' praise ; 
He surely on the rushes tied 

Knots to keep memory true. 
And by his hand there doubtless died 

Of dragons one or two. 
Wild beasts he well can conquer by 

The runic rhymes of old, 



VALDEMAR THE GEEAT. 227 

Nor favour would to liim deny 
The maid most proud and cold." 

Swift o'er tlie maiden's cheek there spread 

The blush such tauntings call ; 
From sewing-seat proud Ingefried 

Rose up, erect and tall : 
" If Vetteman a knot should tie 

Upon the holy strand. 
Prince Buris I know certainly 

Could not unloose the hand ; 
The Roskild brothers oft and oft 

'Gainst Vendisk Dragon went ; 
Buris the time with ditties soft 

Beside your work-board spent. 
That hero runes can well engrave, 

To pass an idle hour. 
But Vetteman is not so brave 

In entering ladies' bower." 

Then little Kirstin blushed blood-red. 



^28 FEOM THE DANISH. 

And 'neath her mantle's hood 
Concealed the tears, for pride unshed. 

That in her bright eyes stood. 
Capriciously herseK she bore, 

She smiled, to weep while fain ; 
Prince Buris would she never more 

See with her eyes again. 
True, he within her heart was dear- — 

How dear she now perceives ; 
Yet honour has more worth to her 

Than aught for which she grieves. 

The sun shines through the lattice still, 
And on the wall glows bright : 

But little Kirstin has no will 
To further jestings light. 



229 



THE RETURN OF THE DEAD. 

From a Collection of Old Danish Ballads. 
Edited by Oehlenschlager. 



Childe Dyring has ridden by wood and by glade. 
And betrothed to himself so fair a maid. 

They were together above seven years, 
And seven children to him she bears. 

But Death came where they dwelt in the land, 
And pale grew the beautiful lily wand. 

Then rode the Childe forth by wood and by glade ; 
He married again another Maid. 

He led her home as his plighted Bride ; 
But she was bitter, and ill to bide. 



230 FEOM THE DANISH. 

When in the court she the children spies. 
The seven stand with tears in their eyes. 

They stood in sorrowM mood that day ; 
She thrust them all with her foot away. 

She gave the children no ale nor meat, 

And cried : "Ye shall hunger, ye shall not eat." 

The bedding soft she took away : 
" Now lie in the mere straw alway." 

She took from them the great wax light : 
" In the dark house ye shall bide all night." 

In the evening late the children wept, 

And their Mother heard, 'neath the mould who slept. 

That heard the woman in earth laid low : 
" To my little children I sure must go." 

The woman to our Lord prayed so : 
'* May I to my little children go ?" 



THE EETURN OF THE DEAD. 231 

So long she asked, so long she pled, 
He let her go even from the dead. 

" But at the cock-crow come again, 
No longer from thy grave remain !" 

She upwards sprang with weary bones, 
That rent the wall of marble stones. 

As she passed through the town, so high 
The dogs howled out to the gloomy sky. 

As she came to the castle-gate, 
Her eldest daughter did by it wait. 

" Why standest thou here dear daughter mine ? 
How are small brothers and sisters thine ?" 

" Thou art never a Mother of mine, 
For she was both fair and fine. 

My mother was white, her cheeks were red, 
But thou art pale and like one dead." 



232 FKOM THE DANISH. 

" Oil how should I be white and red ? 
So long I have been pale and dead !" 

When in the house she came, down all 
The children's cheeks the tears did fall. 

One's hair she plaited, the other's she brushed. 
The third she lifted, the fourth she hushed. 

The fifth within her arms she prest, 
As though to nurse it at her breast. 

Her eldest daughter then bade she : 

" Ask thou Childe Dyring to come to me. 

When he within the chamber stood 
^he spoke to him in wrathful mood : 

" I left behind me both ale and bread. 
My little ones suffer hunger's need. 

Of bedding soft I left supply, 
In the bare straw my children lie. 



THE RETURN OF THE DEAD. 233 

I left behind the great wax light, 
My children lie in the dark all night, 

Should I many times come back to you 
An evil fate must then ensue." 

Little Kirstin answered, in bed lay she : 

" Thy children shall find good Mother in me." 

Each time the dogs did bay, for dread 
They gave the children ale and bread. 

Each time the clamour of dogs they heard. 
They quaked at the dead one's walk and word. 

When they heard the small dogs howl in fear, 
They shuddered lest the Dead were near. 



234 



THE JEWELLER. 

Oehlenschlager. 



See, the young and gi-acefd Charlotte, 

Wilhehn's daughter, LandgTavine, 
Sits within the garden's cool grot 

Silent, with a musing mien. 
She, to Denmark's Lord affianced, 

Christian, fifth who rules that land. 
In tender fear by pleasure balanced, 

Leans her head upon her hand. 

She sighs with him to be acquainted 
Whom but her fancies represent ; 

He has promised that his painted 
Image shall to her be sent ; 



THE JEWELLER. 

But artists easily can flatter, — 
He is handsome, so men tell, 

Yet 'tis no unlikely matter 
This may he flattery as well. 

As she sat in thought concentred, 

Graceful in her garments white, 
At the door one, tapping, entered. 

And a stranger met her sight : 
'Neath his arm a casket hearing 

By a satin wrap concealed, 
And the soher hahits wearing 

Which the Burgher class revealed. 

Stedfastly on her he gazes, 

And in his enraptured eyes 
The fair sight such fire raises, 

That the Princess softly sighs 
" He is handsome !" rosy glowing, 

StiU he stedfast looks on her ; 
Low he bends, Hke subject bowing, 

Says he is a Jeweller. 



235 



236 FEOM THE DANISH. 

With clear stones, so brilliant-sided. 

Circled are her fingers white, — 
What a costly store provided ! 

Fiery rubieg ! diamonds bright ! 
She ne'er hopes to buy such splendor, 

And she sits with doubtful mien. 
Hardly glancing at the vendor, 

When the Landgrave enters in. 

Little comforts he his daughter 

As he sees the costly gear ; 
Morosely at their brilliant water 

Shakes his head ; '* the gems are clear !" 
Scarce a King to buy would offer. 

Though their worth he weU might prove ; 
Landgraves can make no such proffer. 

You the jewels may remove !" 

The JeweUer did not retire, 
But before them deeply bent ; 

" To the Princess the attire 
Belongs, if so she be content ; 



THE JEWELLER. 237 

For her suitor with the treasure 

Sent me from his Danish home : 
' If to Charlotte they give pleasure/ 

Said he — 'they her own hecome !' " — 

" The fifth Christian sent thee hither ?" 

" Yes, from him this gift I hring,'* 
" See we him with summer weather?" 

" First grant the wishes of the King ! 
To the Princess his approved 

Portrait he would offer now, 
That the graceful, the beloved, 

May her lover rightly know. 

" A letter too ; from his dominions 

Hither now the Monarch flies, 
For his love has lent him pinions, 

And with Elfin powers he flies." 
" Burgher ! what suspicion rises ?" 

Have no care to ask my Burgh, 
I myself, now drop disguises, 

Burgher am of Oldenburgh ! 



238 FROM THE DANISH. 

I have done what I projected, 

And for Charlotte waits a crown ; 
Be the person not rejected, 

Be approved the portrait shown. 
Diamonds, that to her I tender, 

Are hut hauhles, howe'er hright, — 
Her beauties and her virtues render 

Radiance that outshines their light." 



239 



WHEN CLOSED ARE MINE EYES. 

HOLST. 



When closed are mine eyes. 
And the fresh greensward lies 

On the hillock 'neath which I am sleeping 
When a bird in the tree 
Sings a grave-song o'er me, 

Alone in its leafy home keeping ; 

Shall I sleep safe from harm ? 

No desire nor alarm 
Strike my coffin, the inmate to waken ? 

Will my soul as it flies. 

When closed are mine eyes, 
Not linger near all thus forsaken ? 



240 FEOM THE DANISH. 

Nay truly ! of worth 
There is nothing on earth 

That can drag it below from its Heaven ; 
That will summon it down, 
From the peace now its own, 

To the tumult confusedly driven. 

Is it, Rose, thy rich bloom ? 

Is it, Billow, thy foam ? 
Or Mountains crowned by the sky's azure ? 

Is it, Zephyr, thy play ? 

Is it, Star, thy clear ray ? — 
I shall see aU above, without measure. 

Is it thou, at whose side 

I with strength was supplied. 

In joy or in grief failing never ? 

Nay, thy Bier became mine, 
And my path shall be thine, 

We will trace it, united for ev^ ! 



WHEN CLOSED AKE MINE EYES. 241 

And yet one tMng I prize — 

"Why bedewed are mine eyes 
Wliilst on home still with tenderness dwelling ? 

Oh my dearly loved son, 

Oft unseen and alone 
Down my cheek for thy sake tears are stealing. 

On thy fair blooming face, 

On thy young mind the trace 
Of innocence now is imprinted ; 

There no poisons distil. 

By no learning to ill 
Is thy temple, purity ! tainted. 

And thou dost not foresee 

That though smiling may be 
The way now so fair to thee seeming, 

There lies foam on the wave, — 

For thy virtue a grave,' — 
Oh my child, this is far from thy dreaming ! 



242 FEOM THE DANISH. 

And thou knoVst not the power 
That in pleasure's gay hour 

Will prepare thee repentance and anguish, 
That an entrance will find 
To thy soul, to thy mind, 

And cling to thy heart till it languish. 



That will make courage bow 

And dry up thy blood's flow, 
And may be . .at such thoughts I am shrinking ! 

And thy Father cannot 

Guide thy way from the spot 
Where thou'rt shipwrecked, and keep thee from sinking ! 

As the wandering bird 

From its nest that hath erred 
Shalt thou flutter on wind and on wave, — 

Who shall guide then thy flight, 

When mine eyes see no light, 
And how shall I rest in my grave ? 



WHEN CLOSED ARE MINE EYES. 243 

Who shall guide then thy flight, 

When mine eyes see no light — 
Oh fool, that sees not where to place thee ! 

There is One o'er the sky — 

Unto Him wilt thou fly, 
In His arms He vnR dearly embrace thee ! 



2U 



FATHERLAND, WHAT HAST THOU 
LOST! 

HOLST. 



Fatherland, what hast thou lost ! 

Tliine old King sleeps to-day ! 
A restless life, for lahour formed. 

Time's waves have swept away. 
A heart, for people and for land, 

That beat with love, then broke, — 
A heart that mildly construed law. 

And a mild judgment spoke ! 
And though the Future, formed by him, 

To thee rich fruit repay, — 
Fatherland, what hast thou lost ! 

Thine old King sleeps to-day. 



245 



ON THE CORONATION OF KING CHRISTIAN. 

HOLST. 



King Christian kneeleth humbly down 

With kingly mantle, sceptred hand, 
Before Him, who each earthly crown 

Sees as a drop, a grain of sand. 
The sight- dehghted many look 

On kingly pomp, on sceptre bright, 
On shining crown — and look and look. 

As long as eye can bear their light ; 
But can they fancy, can they know. 

What thoughts inspire the royal breast ; 
For whom he prays, while, kneeling low, 

His words are to the Lord addrest ? 



246 FKOM THE DANISH. 

For us and for our weal he prayeth, 

Since People's weal is King's defence, 
His spring of gladness is their faith, 

His brightest gem, their confidence. 
How can his eye in quiet close 

If the Land's children close no eye ? 
How on his lips a smile repose, 

If inconsolable we sigh ? 
Nay, even as we do, he must fare. 

And smiles and tears, and Hght and shade, 
The King must with his people share, — 

So for our good his prayer he made. 

Then let us on this day raise high 

A rampart strong his throne around, 
A wall disunion to defy. 

And discontent scare from its bound. 
Of love shaU we build this defence ! 

From love each coward doubt shall flee. 
All fear shall vanish ; rising thence 

Her dawn again shall Denmark see ! 



KING CHRISTIAN. 247 

Its fresh free spirit-breath then may 
Make King and People both secure, 

And let us therefore on this day 
Build him of love a rampart sure ! 



248 



REQUIEM. 

A Farewell to H. P. Y. Lyngbye, from the 

Students' Association. 

HOLST. 



Sleep well, sleep sweetly ! here's thy bed prepared. 
We bring thee unto rest, our pallid brother ! 

We, who oft with thee sport and laughter shared, 
Now follow thee with weeping to our Mother. 

Tender she is and good ! The features pale 
Soon will she cover, yielding for the dead 
Her verdure and her flowers thy veil to spread : 

Between rose hedges now she bids us hail, 

With thrush-song from the lime trees ; in her breast 
So is it meet a Minstrel should find rest. 



REQUIEM. 249 

A Minstrel, — ^yes, for bleeding did expire 
A captive bird, within his bosom borne, 

A captive bird, that sang with sweet desire 
Of Freedom in a bright eternal morn. — 

It sang so from the heart : 'twas not the bird 
Rich with a golden plumage on his wing, 
"Whose warlike notes throughout the greenwood ring ; 

Ah no, upon a lonely way is heard 

Far from the multitude its simple note, — 
Therefore it often o'er the grave shall float. 

Sleep well, sleep sweetly ! Earth, how rich art thou, 
How great the treasure in thy lap we lay ! 

Thou hoardest songs' full choirs, and flower seeds low. 
And the dust's splendour, and crowds once so gay. 

What we with fond embraces would enwrap 
Thou in thy gloomy dwelling dost retain — 
On our dead treasure fixed our eyes remain, 

And therefore fall our tears upon thy lap. 
Take him then also ! we upon songs' wing 
Our latest greeting to the Minstrel bring. 



250 



FROM THE GERMAN. 



THE HAPPY LOVER. 



Burger. 



How happy, in his true-love hlest. 

How happy lives the man ! 
He lives, as, though of realms possest. 

No Prince or Monarch can. 

He values not his happiness 

At price of earthly pelf : 
He thinks himself, though penniless, 

As rich as Croesus' self. 

The world may run its coui^se or stop ; 

Things alter their position 
To upside down and down side up ; 

Unchanged is his condition ! 



THE HAPPY LOVEE. 251 

" Huzza !" he sings, " who cares for wind, 

Why should we heed the rain ? 
It can but blow and blow, the wind ; 

And wet gets dry again. 



Through ev'ry vein may circle fresh 
And unopposed his blood ; 

More healthy is he than a fish 
In its own cooling flood. 



His food by day and sleep by night 
Are undisturbed and sweet ; 

To Paradise his dreams take flight 
There with his Eve to meet. 



In bliss supreme exults the man 
Whose thoughts unbounded rove ; 

Who tells, or sings, if sing he can. 
The kisses of his Love. — 



252 FEOM THE GERMAN. 

Yet, ah ! my words go down the wind, 

Whilst I alone still pine ! 
little Eve, be not unkind, 

Come swiftly and be mine ! 



253 



THE MINSTREL. 



Goethe. 



Before the gate what do I hear. 
And on the drawbridge sound ? 

Go, let the song unto our ear 
Within the hall resound ! 

The King thus spake, the page obeyed ; 

The boy came back, the King then said 
" Here let the old man enter !" 

I greet you well, ye noble lords, 

I greet each lovely dame ! 
How rich a heaven the scene affords ! 

Who may its bright stars name ? 
This hall of splendid pomp within 
Be closed, mine eyes ; nor now begin 
Delightedly to wonder. 



254 FROM THE GERMAN. 

The jMinstrel closed Ms eyes anon, 
And the Ml chords he struck ; 

The valiant Knights look boldly on, 
Downwards the fair ones look. 

The King, approving of the lay. 

Bids that, a guerdon meet to pay, 

A golden chain be brought him. 



" Nay, not on me the golden chain, 
But on thy Knights bestow, 

Before whose bold brows break amain 
The lances of the foe. 

Upon thy trusty Chancellor 

Do thou the golden weight confer, 
Added to other burdens. 



I sing, as sings the bird his note, 
That iu the green- wood lives ; 

The song that gushes from his throat 
Its own rich guerdon gives. 



THE MINSTREL. 255 

Yet may I proffer one request, 
'Tis that to me he brought the best 

Wine, in pure golden goblet." 



He raised the cup, he drank it all, 
*' Sweet is a draught like this ! 

Oh ! three times highly happy hall 
Where a small gift it is ! 

If it go well with you, as much 

Thank God, as warmly, as for such 

A draught e'en now I thank you." 



256 



NEAENESS OF THE BELOVED. 

Goethe. 



I think of thee, when from the Ocean glances 

The Sun's bright gleam ; 
I think of thee, when on the fountain dances 

The pale moon beam. 

I see thee, when on the far distance hovering 

Light dust-clouds play; 
When on the narrow bridge deep Night is covering 

The Wanderer's way. 

I hear thee, when with hollow murmur rushing 

The waters swell. 
In tranquil shades, when eve all sounds is hushing, 

I listen still. 



NEAENESS OF THE BELOVED. 257 

I am with thee, although too far to meet me, 

Yet art thou near ! 
The sun sinks down, soon will the bright stars greet me, 

Oh wert thou here ! 



258 



THE IDEAL. 

Schiller. 



Thus wilt thou, faithless, from me sever,^ 

With thy beloved Phantasies, 
Thy joys, thy griefs ; and fly for ever, 

Regardless of my prayers and sighs ? 
Can nothing, fiigitive, delay thee, 

Life's golden time, hut once possest ? 
Thy waves haste on, no power can stay thee, 

Till in the eternal sea at rest. 

The joyous suns in night are shrouded. 
Which shone upon my path of youth ; 

The bright Ideals lost or clouded. 
Which swelled my heart in seeming truth ; 



THE IDEAL. 259 

'Tis gOQe, the sweet belief, confiding 
In Beings wMch my dreams made mine, 

And rougli Eeality, abiding. 
Preys on the lovely and divine. 

As once, Ms wisb in prayer o'erflowing, 

Pygmalion the Stone embraced, 
TiU in tbe marble's cold cheeks glowing 

Warm feeliag all its beauty graced ; 
So I, my loving arms entwining 

Round nature, with fond youthful zest, 
Warmed her to live, to breathe, reclining 

Upon my faithful poet-breast. 

And, by the same strong impulse fired, 

The dumb one, speech no more denied, 
Gave back love's kiss, by love inspired, 

And to my heart's full tone replied. 
Then lived to me the tree, the flower, 

The silver fountain sang in glee ; 
The soul-less even felt life's power, 

And echoed back my own to me. 



260 FEOM THE GERMAN. 

A circling all my breast expanded, • 

Enlarged with mighty force its bound, 
To enter life that force demanded. 

In deed and word, in form and sound. 
How large this world, while yet mysterious 

Within the bud it lay concealed ; 
In its unfolding, how penurious ! 

How poor the little now revealed ! 

How sprang, his steps bold courage winging, 

Enraptured in his dream's deceit. 
No care as yet its fetters bringing. 

Upon life's path the StripHng fleet. 
The palest star through sether gleaming 

Was reached in daring Fancy's flight ; 
Nothing too high, too distant seeming. 

When upborne on those wings of might; 

How light his course, unchecked, unbending. 
What could the fortunate withstand ? 

How danced, the car of life attending, 
Before him the aerial band : 



THE IDEAL. 261 

Love, his sweet recompense bestowing, 
Fortune, with gold her tresses bound. 

Fame, with her star-crown brightly glowing. 
And Truth, who sun-light shed around ! 

Yet, ah ! ere half the way completed. 

The escort vanished one by one. 
Faithless they left him and retreated, 

Till his companions all were gone. 
Light-footed Fortune first departed, 

But still the thirst of Knowledge stayed. 
Though Doubt's dark thunder-clouds imparted 

To sun-bright Truth night's gloomy shade. 

I saw Fame's wreath, no longer hallowed. 

Crowning the mean ignoble head ; 
Ah, all too soon, by Autumn followed. 

The sweet spring-time of Love had fled ! 
Ever more stUl it was, and ever 

More lonely on the rough descent ; 
Scarce did the light of Hope pale quiver. 

Upon the gloomy way I went. 



262 FROM THE GEEMAN. 

Of all the troop so gaily sporting, 

Who still waits loving at my side ? 
Who comforts me, my steps supporting, 

Till the dark house my form shall hide ? 
Thou, Friendship, for my sorrows caring, 

Whose gentle hand each wound hath hound, 
The hurden of existence sharing ; 

Thou whom I early sought and found. 

And thou, with her so gladly mated. 

As she dispels the Soul's rude storms. 
Employment, never tired or sated, 

Who ne'er destroys, though slow she forms : 
Who, still the eternal pile enlarging. 

Adds sand indeed hut grain hy grain, — 
Yet, the great deht of Time discharging. 

Minutes, days, years, strikes off again. 



263 



THE SHAEING OF THE EAETH. 

Schiller. 



" Take ye the world !" cried Jupiter from heaven 
Unto mankind ; " take, all your own shall be : 

To you as an inheritance 'tis given ; 
But share between you brotherly." 

Then haste all who have hands, possession taking, 
Active and busy rise both young and old ; 

The Husbandman afield his harvest making ; 
The Hunter ranging wood and wold. 

The Merchant takes whate'er his bams can treasure ; 

The Abbot chooses him the noblest wine ; 
The King bars streets and bridges at his pleasure, 

And speaks : " the tenth of all is mine." 



264 FROM THE GERMAN. 

At last, when long the sharing had been over, 
The Poet came : he came from distance far. 

Ah, not a remnant left could he discover, 
For all he sees there owners are ! 



" Alas for me ! alone of all creation 
Am I forgot, I thy most faithful son ? " 

Thus loudly rose his cry of lamentation,— 
Prostrate he fell at Jove's high throne. 

" If in the land of dreams idly reposing," 
RepHed the god, " cast not the blame on me. 

Where wast thou, as all men their lot were choosing ? 
" I was," — the Poet said, — "with thee." 



" The glory of thy countenance enchaining 
Mine eye, thy heaven's harmony mine ear ; 

Forgive the spirit which, entranced remaining 
In thy light, lost its portion here !" 



THE SHAKING OF THE EARTH. 265 

" What help ? " said Jove, — " the world away is given ; 

Chase, harvest, market, are no longer mine — 
But if thou wilt dwell with me in my heaven, 

Whene'er thou com'st, free entrance shall he thine." 



266 



THE RETURN OF THE POET. 

Uhland. 



There on his bier the Poet lies, 

Whose pallid lips no song may breathe ; 
The brow, which can no more devise. 

Of Daphne's hair wears faded wreath. 

In dainty scrolls by him appear 
The latest songs his spirit poured ; 

The Lyre, whose tone was once so clear, 
Lies in his arms, with silent chord. 

So slumbers he the slumber deep, 
His song still vibrates in each ear ; 

Yet but the more his loss they weep. 
The glorious one to them so dear. 



THE EETUEN OF THE POET. 267 

Now montlis and years have passed away, 
And the dark cypress o'er him waves ; 

While those who wept his death that day 
Themselves are sunk in lowlier graves. 



Yet, as again returns the Spring 
Full of fresh power, with life imbued, 

In the New Age the Bard shall sing, 
Thus gloriJOied and thus renewed. 

Of the coM grave we trace no breath, 
The living now he dwells among ; 

The former Age, which mourned his death. 
Lives but in his immortal Song. 



268 



THE SHEPHEKD'S SUNDAY SONG. 

Uhland. 



This is the Lord's own Sabbath day ! 
I am apart on this wide plain, 
The morning bell sounds once again, 

Then silence, near and far away ! 

I worship, and sweet awe I feel : 

Mysterious breezes seem to blow 1 
As if around, (unseen below) 

Many were praying while I kneel. 

The Heavens, near and far away. 

Solemn yet festive look, and bright 
As they would open to my sight — 

This is the Lord's own Sabbath day ! 



269 



THE DEATH-FEELING. 

Uhland. 



Who knows the feelings of a dying hour ? 

Yet have I strangely been this night imprest ; 

My limbs appeared already in Death's power, 

And life's last effort throbbing in my breast. 

Tremors unknown my Spirit overcame, 

The Spirit, which so firm believed its sway ; 

Expiring now, then kindling a faint flame, 

So feeble, that the winds drove it away. 

How ? was I captive to a grievous dream ? 

I hear the lark, red is the morning light, 

New wishes urge me to life's active stream. 

How ? the Death-angel, was he passing here ? 

The flowers, which yester-eve bloomed fresh and bright, 

Hang from the stalk, and withered now appear. 



270 



THE CASTLE BY THE SEA. 

Uhland. 



Hast thou the Castle noted, 
The Ocean Fortress high ? 

Golden and rosy floated 
Clouds o'er it through the sky. 

In tides beneath it flowing 
It seeks a mirror clear ; 

Where evening clouds are glowing 
Its height it would uprear. 

" The Castle I have noted, 
The 6cean Fortress high, 

Grey clouds above it floated 
The pale moon lit the sky." 



THE CASTLE. 271 

Did wind and sea in motion 

Give music fresh and strong ? 
Those Halls above the Ocean, 

Resounded they with song ? 



" The winds, the waves all sleeping 
In deep repose lay hushed 

Only a song of weeping 
From forth the casements gushed." 

Saw'st thou above thee moving 
Appear the King and Queen ? 

The scarlet mantles waving ? 
The crowns of golden sheen ? 



Led they not forth, joy-beaming, 
A maiden wond'rous fair. 

As sun-light glorious streaming 
Her radiant golden hair ? 



272 FROM THE GERMAN. 

" I saw indeed both Parents, 
Their golden crowns forgot, 

Arrayed in mourning garments ; 
The maiden I saw not." 



273 



THE SONG OF THE MOUNTAIN BOY. 

Uhlan D. 



I am the mountain's shepherd-boy, 
Here first the sunbeams wake to joy, 
And latest touch its gorgeous crown. 
I look upon proud Castles down : ' 
I am the mountain boy ! 

The torrent's mother-home is here, 
From out the rock I drink it clear, 
And from the cliff, in headlong race, 
It leaps into my fond embrace : 
I am the mountain boy ! 



^74 FEOM THE GEEMAN. 

The mountain's my inheritance, 
The circling storms form warrior-dance, 
But let them howl from south to north. 
Above them still my song peals forth : 
I am the mountain boy ! 

Thunder and lightnings under me. 
Mid the blue heavens stand I free ; 
I know and warn them as they rouse : 
Leave ye in peace my father's house ! 
I am the mountain boy ! 

If the aJarm-bell e'er should sound. 
Fires glowing on the hills around, 
I'll join my brethren's close array, 
And wield my sword, and sing my lay 
I am the mountain boy ! 



275 



THE SERENADE. 

Uhlan D. 



"Who from my slumter wakens me 
With sounds of such sweet power ? 

Mother, look ! who may it be, 
So late as is the hour ? 

" I no one see, I hear none sing, 
Oh slumber, soft and mild ! 

None now a Serenade will bring 
To thee, my poor sick child !" 

It is not earthly melody 
That I with rapture hear ; 

The Angels call me from the sky : 
Good night, Mother dear ! 



276 



GOSSAMER. 

Uhland. 



O'er fields where we are passing, flies 

A summer-tliread from Fairies' hand, 
Spun light and shiningly — and ties, 

From me to her I love, a band. 
For a good omen this I take, 

A sign that to Love's need seems fair ; 
Hopes of the rich in hope, ye break. 

Slight floating threads, at breath of air ! 



277 



PRAISE OF THE SPRING. 

Uhland. 



Verdure, Violets, Mayflowers, 
Lark's glad song on fluttering wing, 
Soft perfumed air, and sunny showers ! 

When such simple words I sing, 

Need I loftier tribute bring, 

To praise thee, sweet day of Spring ? 



278 



WORDS OF AN OLD MAN. 

Uhland. 



Repeat no more good morning and good day ! 
Good evening and good night now ever say ! 
For evening is around, and night is near — 
Oh, if akeady I could find it here ! 

My child ! my own sweet Life, come here to me ! 
Nay, rather come, sweet Death, so dear to me ! 
For what is bitter, Life I name it all, 
And what is sweet to me, that Death I call. 



279 



PRAYER DURING THE BATTLE. 

KORNEE. 



Father, I call on Thee ! 
Round me the thunder of hattle is crashing, 
Through clouds of smoke the red lightnings are flashing. 

Guider of conflict, I call on Thee, 

Father, thou lead me ! 

Father, Thou lead me ! 
Lead me to Victory, lead me to death. 
Lord, Thy command may dispose of my breath ; 

Lord, as Thou wilt, so lead me, 

God, I acknowledge Thee ! 



280 FROM THE GEEMAN. 

God, I acknowledge Thee ! 
As in the rustling of Autumn leaves light, 
So in the thunder, the storm of the fight, 

Source of all grace, I acknowledge Thee. 

Father, Thou bless me ! 



Father, Thou Hess me ! 
Lord, in thy hand my existence I lay. 
Thou, who hast given it, may'st take it away, 

For life and for death, oh bless me, 

Father, I praise Thee ! 



Father, I praise Thee ! 
This is no combat for earthly possession, 
The holiest our swords now protect from oppression : 

Therefore, falling, and conquering, I praise Thee, 

God, unto Thee I devote me ! 



PEAYEE DURING THE BATTLE. 281 

God, unto Thee I devote me ! 
When Death in thunder against me is roaring, 
When from my veins the red torrent is poming, 

Unto my God I devote me ! 

Father, I call on Thee ! 



282 



TELL'S CHAPEL. 

Stolberg. 



Observe this lioly Chapel's site, 
Here William Tell first saw the light ; 
Here where God's altar now is spread 
Stood then his parents' marriage bed ! 

With deep and inward happiness 
The Mother did her infant bless ; 
Forgot her pain, and felt but joy- 
As to her heart she held the boy. 

She asked* of God : oh may he be 
Thy servant, upright, brave and free ! 
God heard, and thought : I more will do 
Through him, than a whole army through ! 



tell's chapel. 283 

He gave him of warm blood the force, 
Courage of Eagle, strength of horse, 
'Mid towering crags bold way to win, 
The falcon's eye, and fire therein ! 



To Nature, and His holy "Word 
The boy was trusted by the Lord : 
Where forth the mountain streamlet gushed 
The hero's spirit upward rushed. 



The labouring oar, and Chamois-hunt 
Strengthened his limbs for warlike brunt ; 
Danger his sport, however shown ; 
His greatness was to him unknown. 

He knew not that his single hand. 
Strengthened by God, his Fatherland 
Should rescue from the foreign yoke. 
Whose base restraint he nobly broke. 



284 



LOVE'S MAGIC. 

Matthisson. 



Where hovers Love with pinion bright, 

Creation always lives ; 
To deserts, life, to stormy night, 

The blush of morn he gives ! 

The darkest rocks of ocean, bare 

And silent, stern and cold, 
When his enchantments enter there. 

To' Paradise unfold. 



285 



THE FUTURE LIFE. 

Salis. 



Into the quiet Land 

Who will guide us over ? 

Already clouds our evening heaven cover, 

And wrecks are strewing more and more the strand. 

Who will then gnide us with a gentle hand 

Over ! ah ! over. 

Into the quiet Land ? 

Into the quiet Land, 
To you vast spaces free 
For growing nobler ! tender dreams are ye 
Of beauteous souls ! pledge of what shall be gained. 
Whoever faithful in life's fight did stand, 
His germ of hope shall see 
Bloom in the quiet Land. 



286 FEOM THE GERMAN. 

All Land ! ah Land ! 

For all whom storms are nearing, 

The mildest Messenger of Fate appearmg, 

With torch reversed signs to us his command, 

And guides us with a soft and gentle hand ; 

Unto the country of the great Dead steering, 

Unto the quiet Land. 



287 



LOVE. 

My heart, I thee will question, 
What love is, now reveal ? 

" Two souls, one thought possessing, 
Two hearts, one throb that feel." 

And say from whence love cometh ? 

" It comes, its power we prove." 
And say how does love vanish ? 

" Ah ! then it was not love." 

And when is love the strongest ? 

" When thought of self is gone—' 
And when is it the deepest ? 

" When purest it is shown." 



288 FROM THE GEEMAN. 

And when is love the richest ? 

" 'Tis richest when it gives." 
And tell me how love speaketh ? 

" It speaketh not, it lives.'' 



289 



CONSOLATION. 



NOVALIS. 



When one within his chamber lonely 

Sits weeping heavy bitter tears ; 
While tinged with need and sorrow only 

The neighbourhood around appears ; 

He in the times for ever vanished 

As into an abyss looks deep, 
In which all things beloved, now banished. 

With sweet grief draw him down the steep ; — 

He feels as though vast treasures lying 
Below, were heaped for him to grasp ; 

The guardian key of which he, flying 
Breathless and wild, still strives to clasp. 



290 FEOM THE GEEMAN. 

The future lies, a desert dreary 
Of fearful length before him spread, 

He roams about, alone and weary, 
And seeks himself with feverish dread. 



Then in his arms I sink, confiding 

To him — " Like thine was grieved my breast. 
Yet was my misery not abiding, 

I know where man may ever rest. 



" Like me, that Being must restore thee 
Who loved, who suffered, and who died ; 

With free and willing mercy for thee 
And his worst enemies he died. 



" He died, and yet in every hour 

Thou may'st see Him, His love, His grace. 
And always have the blessed power 

To seek His tender, dear embrace. 



CONSOLATION. 291 

" "With Him new strength and life is driven 

Into thy dead hones, cold and dry, 
And when to Him thy heart is given, 

His shall he thine eternally. 



" What thou hast lost. He found ; thou meetest 
With Him, all that thou here didst love ; 

And thine shall he, in union sweetest. 
For ever, what He gives ahove." 



292 



FROM THE FRENCH. 



TO MY FIRST-BORN. 
(XV. Century.) Clotilde de Surville. 

— ♦ — 

infant dear, true portrait of thy father, 
Sleep on the bosom that thy lips have pressed ! 

Sleep, little one ; on bosom of thy mother 

Close thy sweet eyes, by slumber's weight oppressed. 

May they, dear little one, my lovely friend. 
Enjoy a sleep no longer made for me ; 

1 watch to see thee, nourish thee, defend .... 

How sweet it is only to watch for thee ! 
Sleep, my own little child, my joy, my care, 

Sleep on my bosom that bore thee erewhile ; 
No word of thine rejoices yet my ear, 

Though I am oft enchanted by thy smile ! 
infant dear, .... 



TO MY FntST-BOEN. 293 

Perhaps in waking, friend, a smile will rise ; 

Answering my joyous looks thou'lt smile on me : 
Thine much have told me, and within mine eyes 

Already hast thou learnt thyself to see. 
What ! thy white fingers from my breast remove, 

Where thy mouth draws the stream its thirst to slake ! 
Ah ! should'st thou drain it, thou dear pledge of love. 

All that I wish to give thou would'st not take. 
Dear little one, my tender son ! how fain 

Do I behold my care, my love, my treasure ! 
I see thee always, yet would see again. 

Too brief seem day and night for such pure pleasure, 
infant dear, .... 

His little arms extend ; sleep calm and meek 
Closes his eye ; how still, how sweet his face. 

But for the rosy tint upon his cheek, 

Would'st thou not say he was in Death's embrace ? 

Stay, dearest child !....! tremble with affright. 
Awake thee ! chase this thought, thine eyes unclose ! 

My son ! . . . . one moment .... see again the light ! 



294 FEOM THE FEENCH. 

At price of thine restore me my repose ! 
He slept ! I breathe, my error fond is o'er. 

Flatter his sleep, light dreams, and make it sweet ! 
Ah ! when shall he whom I am sighing for 

Beside me joyfully his waking greet ? 
infant dear, .... 

When will he see thee from whom came thy being, 

The fairest of mankind, by holy vow 
My own ? Ah yes, in fancy I am seeing 

Thy little hands towards him extended now ! 
How pleased will he be at thy first caress, 

How from my kisses will he snatch thee, child ! 
Think not thyself to exhaust his tenderness. 

He will reserve as much for his Clotild. 
His image with what pleasure will he trace 

In thee, his large eyes, sweet yet full of fire, 
That noble brow, the graciousness of face 

Which even Love might jealously desire ! 
infant dear, .... 



TO MY FIRST-BOEN. 295 

For me, no jealous feelings shall possess 

My mind, at transports that I share with thee ; 
Make, friend, like him, a fond wife's happiness. 

But let her not mourn absence like to me ! ... . 
I speak, thou hearest not .... (what do I say ? 

If fully waked, no better could he hear !) 
Thy threads of thought, poor little darling, stray 

In tangled skein, not yet arranged and clear. 
We all have been as thou, but that is past ; 

Sad reason comes, with or without our will, 
If possible, retain the peace thou hast. 

In brightest days to be remembered still, 
infant dear, true portrait of thy father, 

Sleep on the bosom that thy lips have pressed ! 
Sleep, little one ; on bosom of thy mother 

Close thy sweet eyes, by slumber's weight oppressed . 



296 



CHORUS. 
Ending Act III. of Racine's "Athalie." 



Who can disturb the still 
Peace of that heart, my God, which loveth Thee ? 
It seeks in everything Thy sovereign will, 

And from its own is free. 
Is there more happiness in earth, in Heaven, 
Than the calm peace which to that heart is given, 

Whose love is fixed on Thee ? 



297 



The beginning of a Poem addressed to 
M. Abbe F. de la Mennais. 

Lamartine. 

— ♦ — 

My soul rejoicing to shake off her chain, 
Lays down her load of human care and pain, 

Leavingmy senses over earth to rove, 
I freely reach the Spirits' world above. 
Spurning the Visible for realms remote, 
In fields of possibility I float. 
My Soul, in her vast prison straitened round. 
Yearns for a home by no horizon bound. 

As drop of water to the ocean brought, 
The Infinite itself absorbs my thought ; 
There, queen of space and of eternity, 
It dares to measure time, immensity ; 
Roams o'er existence, and its bounds perceives. 



298 FEOM THE FEENCH. 

God's essence inconceivable conceives. 

But when to paint my feelings words I seek, 

I find them all expire in efforts weak. 

My Soul believes that she hath power to speak ; 

My tongue embarrassed gives vain sounds alone, 

And but a shadow of my thought is known. 

God made two different languages for mind, 

The one in sounds articulate we find, 

This is the bounded language Men receive. 

Sufficient for the exile where we live ; 

And follo-^mig the lot which Mortals bear, 

With climate changes, or the passing year. 

The other is eternal and immense, 

Language innate of all inteUigence, 

And not dead sounds that in the ak depart, 

But a voice felt and living in the heart ; 

Explained, and known, and spoken by the Soul, 

It can impress, enlighten, and control : 

In prayer this is the language sent by Heaven, 

And which to know on earth alone to Love is given. 



299 



HYMN TO GRIEF. 

[With a few omissions.) 

Lamartine. 



Grief, strike again, if in my heart there be 

Room for another hlow of misery. 

Thou, who knoVst not to pity or forgive ! 

"What though mine eyes have no more tears to give, 

Some fibre may be found in me that will 

Unto thy torturing influence answer still. 

Like a cut serpent lying on the path. 

That 'neath the foot of Man yet writhes in wrath, 

When torpid rage he stimulates again. 

And e'en when life is gone, still searches pain. 

Perhaps from some unhoped-for, deep recess 

There may be wrung a cry of wretchedness, 



300 FEOM THE FEENCH. 

That ne'er before from human Soul was brought : — 

The sound as music is by hatred caught. 

Search ! I surrender to thy jealousy, 

For I have nothing more to save from thee. 

Oft to prolong my life and suffering, 

Thou would'st a ray of hope unto me bring, 

As we let travellers their breath regain, 

To lead them farther in the path of pain. 

Oft in the night, broken by lightning's fire, 

Thou brought' st the cup of joy to my desire. 

And then, as it was mantUng to my view, 

Thy hand the flowing vase against me threw. 

And triumph now ! No string is in my heart, 

But there with suffering thou hast wrought thy part : 

No whitened hair is on my drooping head. 

But o'er it thou hast withering influence shed. 

And no affection in my Soul hath Hved, 

Nor hope, nor wish, but perished there deceived. 

Yet, hesitating as the past I view, 



HYMN TO GEIEF. 301 

I still must doubt what name to thee is due. 
My lips would curse, but fear my soul restrains, 
In anguish still admiring awe remains. 
Thou mak'st the Man, Grief ! the man entire 
As gold is fined, steel hardened by the fire. 
Who knows thee not, knows not what life is worth 
He only crawls, he lives not upon earth ; 
He floats as clouds float o'er the world below, 
His vain and fruitless course no trace can show. 
He knows not, when his virtue weak appears, 
New force to give it with his burning tears ; 
He knows not how to combat with his heart 
(That painful conflict on the Victor's part) 
To raise a supplicating cry to Heaven, 
To feel on bended knee new power given. 
And in despair, which God alone can know. 
To lean on obstacles, and forward go. 

Thou art not the Soul's death, thou art her life, 
Healing, reviving even by blows and strife. 
Thou against whom my suffering oft hath spoken, 



302 FEOM THE FEENCH. 

Thou, before whom my heart hath often broken, 
The incense that smokes every where receive ! 
It is the only one that earth can give : 
When sullied is the altar, Holy Lord ! 
No incense there but sorrow can be poured. 



303 



FHOM THE ITALIAN. 



THE DEATH OF CLOKINDA. 

From "La Gerusalemme Liberata," Canto 12th. 

Tasso. 

Tancred is deeply in love with Clorinda, a beautiful maiden and an heroic 
leaderin the pagan host, but she is indifferent to him. After a fierce conflict 
between the two armies, he and Clorinda are separated from the rest, but he 
does not recognize her, as in expectaiion of a tremendous struggle she wears 
a simple black coat of mail, instead of the splendid armour by which she was 
generally distinguished. A desperate and protracted combat ensues, ia which 
she is fatally wounded. 



64 

But now at last the fatal hour arrives, 

Which to its end Clorinda's life must bring. 

Into her bosom fair the sword he drives 

So that it deeply drinks the vital spring : 

The robe of gold embroidery it rives, 

That tenderly her breast encompassing, 

With a warm stream is filled. Death's stroke she feels, 

Her foot now fails, and faintness o'er her steals. 



304 FEOM THE ITALIAN. 

65 

He follows up the victory ; the Maid, 

With death- wound pierced, he threatening pressed upon. 

She, as she fell, in mournful accents said 

Her latest words ere speech and life were gone. 

Words which a Spirit new to her now shed 

Within her heart, of faith, hope, love — alone. 

By God infused — If in life rebel. He 

Wills that in death she should His handmaid be. 



66 

" Friend thou hast conquered : I forgive, forgive 
Thou too my Soul, and not this mortal clay, 
That nothing fears : Oh ! pray for me, and give 
Me Baptism, to wash my sins away." 
The accents of those soft entreaties leave 
Sad, tender feelings that no words can say 
And as she pleads, her voice his wrath subdues, 
Winds to his heart, and tears his eyes suffuse. 



THE DEATH OF CLOEINDA. 305 

67 

Not far, from source within a neighbouring hill, 
A murmuring streamlet flowed within his sight. 
He went in haste his helmet there to fill, 
And sad returned unto the holy rite. 
His hand was trembling, while the face, that still 
Had been concealed, he freed from vizor bright. 
He saw and knew : movement nor voice remained : — 
sight ! knowledge ! that too late he gained. 



68 

He died not ; — gathering his power he lives. 

And guards his failing heart with strength restored. 

And, stifling anguish, life by water gives 

To her, whose death was given by his sword. 

She gently smiles, and holy joy receives, 

As he repeats aloud each sacred word, 

And seems, with spirit joyful at release, 

To say ; Heaven opens, I depart in peace. 



306 FEOM THE ITALIAN. 

69 

A lovely paleness o'er her face lias spread, 
E'en so would violets and lilies blend : 
Her eyes fix on the heavens above her head, 
The sun and heavens a pitying aspect bend ; 
To Tancred, as a pledge of peace instead 
Of words, her cold fair hand she does extend. 
And thus, in act which pardon still imparts. 
Appears but sleeping, while her life departs. 



SONNETS. 307 



BEFOKE THE DEATH OF LAURA. 

CLXXXIV. 

Peteaech. 

— ♦ — 

Whence did Love take the gold, from what rich vein, 
To form two shining tresses ? Tender, fair, 
The snow, now breathing life, whence did he bear, 
And mid what thorns the blushing roses gain ? 
Where sought the pearls, whose bordering rows restrain 
Sweet gentle words, the Pilgrims of the air ? 
Whence all those living beauties, charmed from care. 
That brow adorning, more than heaven serene ? 
Moved by what Angels, from what sphere of light 
That song celestial which dissolves my heart ? 
Those lovely eyes, soul-lit and proudly bright, 
Which in my bosonj peace or war inspire, 
What Sun their r^dian^t lustre could impart ? 
They freeze my heart to ice, or melt in fire. 



308 FROM THE ITALIAN. 



AFTER THE DEATH OF LAURA. 
II. 

A lament on the death of Cardinal Colonna and 
Madonna Laura, which occurred in 1348, from the 
Pestilence that spread over Europe. 

Petrarch. 



The lofty Column and tlie Laurel green, 
That sheltered me in weary thought are gone : 
I never hope to find what they have been, 
From Pole to Pole, throughout each circling zone. 
Death, thou hast seized my treasures for thine own, 
They were my pride, and made it joy to live ; 
They were what neither gold, nor eastern stone, 
Nor empire of the earth to me can give. 
But yet if Destiny to this consent. 
What can I but my soul to sorrow how, 
"With tearful eyes and face in sadness bent ? 
Life, that show'st so fair unto our sight. 
How dost thou lose, in but a morning's flight. 
What many years of toil and care bestow ! 



SONNETS. 309 



AFTEK THE DEATH OF LAURA, 

XVIIl. 

Petearch. 



The gentle air of sighs which reach mine ear 

From her, who was my own, and is ahove, 

But seems to me as if she still were here, 

To live, and feel, and move, and breathe and love — 

if I conld all this in words convey. 

What thoughts would rise ! she comes with holy fear. 

And watches lest I weary on my way. 

Or back return, or to the left draw near : 

She shows the path of Virtue high and straight ; 

Her prayers and chaste persuasions I obey, 

And soft reproofs low and compassionate. 

That as she pleases, bend my Soul, and sway ; 

Such gentleness impart those accents dear. 

Which e'en from rocks and stones might force a tear. 



310 FEOM THE ITALIAN. 



AFTER THE DEATH OF LAURA. 

XXI. 

Petrarch 

— ♦ — 

Beyond the faii^est, fair ; my blessed Light, 

Who in such friendship sweet lived here with Heaven, 

Too soon for me back to her home was given, 

And to her star, that like herself is bright. 

Now I begin to wake me, and I know 

She for the best with my desires hath striven ; 

And the hot will by which my youth was driven 

She tempered with a soft reproving brow. 

I thank her, and her lofty counsel prize. 

Who with soft anger and sweet loveliness 

To my salvation tm'ned me ardently. 

lovely arts, and worthy their success. 

One with the tongue, the other with the eyes ; 

1 gave her glory, virtue she gave me ! 



SONNETS. 311 



AFTER THE DEATH OF LAURA. 

XXIV. 



Peteakch. 



The eyes of which so fervently I spoke, 
The arms, the hands, the feet, the lovely face. 
That made me separate from all my race, 
And ties, which to myself had bound me, broke ; 
The crisped locks of gold upon her brow. 
The lightning-flash of that angelic smile 
Which made of earth a paradise the while, 
A little dust, that nothing feels, are now : 
And I yet live, which grieves and angers me, 
AVithout the light I held so dear, alone 
In a dismantled ship, and tempest-tost. 
Then let my song of love here ended be : 
The stream of my exhausted mind is gone. 
The music of my lyre in weeping lost. 



312 FROM THE ITALIAN. 



AFTER THE DEATH OF LAURA. 

XXXIV. 

Petrauch. 



I, by my tliouglit, was raised unto the place 

Where she is, whom I seek and find not here : 

Less proud I saw her and with lovelier grace, 

Mid those who are enclosed by Heaven's third sphere. 

She took my hand and said : " Here thou wilt be, 

If I am not by wishes led astray ; 

I am the One who caused such strife to thee, 

And ere Life's evening I had closed my day. 

My joy thou know'st not, Mortal cannot know ; 

I wait thee only, and what thou hast loved. 

My beauteous veil, which yet remains below." 

Why was she silent, why her hand removed ? 

For when those accents to mine ear were given, 

I almost stayed with her I loved in Heaven. 

e. p. K. 



SONNETS. 313 



AFTER THE DEATH OF LAURA, 

XLIV. 

Petrakch. 
— ♦ — 

Nor course of planets through the heavens serene, 
Nor ships prepared in tranquil seas to glide, 
Nor armed knights o'er open plains that ride, 
Nor sportive creatures wild in sylvan scene, 
Nor fresh good news that waited long hath been, 
Nor lofty style, to love's sweet moods allied, 
Nor virtuous ladies fair at summer tide, 
Singing mid fountains clear and meadows green. 
Nor aught can ever with delight surprise 
My heart ; which buried with her doth remain. 
Who was the Kght and mirror of mine eyes. 
With this long weary life I am oppressed 
So much, that for its end I pray, again 
To see her, whom to have ne'er seen were best. 



314 FROM THE ITALIAN. 



AFTER THE DEATH OF LAURA. 

LXXXV. 



Petrarch. 



For twenty years and one I had been kept 
Joyful by Love in fire, and hope was given 
In grief : then Laura and my heart to Heaven 
Arose together, and ten years I wept, 
I now am weary, and my Mfe 1 see, 
Reproving, for the seed of virtuous power 
Is nigh extinct ; and I, great God, restore 
Devoutly my remaining time to Thee. 
Sad and repenting o'er my wasted days 
That for a better use should have been spent 
In seeking peace, and shunning hurtful ways. 
Lord, who dost keep me in imprisonment, 
Safe from eternal woes release me now. 
For I both know my error, and avow. 



SONNETS. 315 



AFTER THE DEATH OF LAURA. 

LXXXVI. 

Peteaech. 



I linger weeping o'er tlie moments gone, 

The time I spent upon a mortal love. 

Nor rose in flight, though I had wings to prove, 

And loftier example might have shewn. 

Thou, who dost see my impious, worthless heart, 

Invisible, immortal King of Heaven, 

Give help to a frail wandering soul, and even 

From thine own fulness to her need impart. 

So, if I did in war and tempest live, 

I may in peace and shelter die ; if vain 

My sojourn, let my parting righteous be. 

To the few days of life which still remain. 

And to my death, may thy hand succour give. 

Thou knowest well I only hope in Thee. 



316 



TO THE CHAMBER OF PETRARCH. 

Alfieri. 



little chamber ! wMcli didst once enclose 

That great one, for whose fame the world's wide bound 

Is narrow space, Master of love profound 

To whom on earth such honour Laura owes : 

happy lone abode of thought's repose, 

Thought sweetly sad, alas, what bitter tears 

Bathe my grieved bosom that the course of years 

To thee no grateful honoui's should disclose ! 

All precious things, gold, agate, jasper, shine 

With brightness due, yet hardly worthy so 

To honour what dwelt mid these walls of thine. 

But nay : 'tis weU to deck a monarch's shrine ; 

Place brilliant gems where laurels will not grow ; 

Here but the name of genius so divine. 



317 



OPPORTUNITY. 

Machiavelli. 

— ♦ — 

" Who art thou ? for not haortal canst thou be, 

With so much grace doth Heaven thy form endue, 
Why never rest ? on winged feet why flee ? " 

" My name is Opportunity, my face 
Observed by few, I labom* from the need 

To keep one foot upon a wheel. A race, 
Unequalled e'en by flying, is my speed ; 

I the light wings upon my feet maintain 
To dazzle those who of my course take heed. 

My scattered locks before me I restrain. 
And with them are my breast and face o'erspread, 

That none of my approach may knowledge gain! 



318 FEOM THE ITALIAN. 

Behind is every tress shorn off my head ; 

Hence all have disappointed been who tried 
To stay my course when from them I have fled." 

" Now let me know who she is by thy side ? " 
^' Repentance, — therefore to my words attend ; 

"With those who seize me not she will abide. 
And thou who, thus in speaMng, time dost spend, 

Engaged with the vain thoughts which thee beguile, 
Alas ! dost thou not see and apprehend 

How from thy hands I havfe escaped the while ? " 



319 



SONNET COMPOSED DURING AN ACUTE 
ILLNESS. 

Tansillo, 



Dread Night, with tresses hlack, enclosed heneath 

The veil of humid darkness, who from earth 

Arising, spoilest of delight and mirth 

The world, and clothest it in hues of death ; 

I, vexed and iU, who blame thy cold delays 

And my own burning fever equally, 

If for one course of thine Sleep came to me 

And closed mine eyes, how should I give thee praise ! 

Then I should say, that thou com'st forth, from Heaven, 

That starry crowns of thine the world adorn, 

That, calling unto rest, by thee 'tis given, 

And joy and revelry by thee are borne ; 

Such flattering things,_^0 Night, to thee I'd say, 

That pale with envy should become the Day. 



320 



KEMOESE. 



FiLICAJA. 



Nor tiger whose eye breathes terrific fire ; 
Nor serpent hidden under burning skies, 
Who, poised erect, with rage and hisses dire. 
Vibrates as his own breast he stings, and dies ; 
Nor thunderbolt, that loud the mountain rends, 
Such terror deals — Nor proud impetuous force 
Of stream that o'er its broken banks descends. 
Deserts its bed, and takes a wandering course, 
Inspires such fear unto the scattered herd 
Or timid ploughman, as to me Remorse, 
When I my guilt and naked conscience see. 
Nor vengeful Fury so to pity seared 
Dwells in th' abyss, but would less cruel be 
Than my internal cruel misery. 



3' 



SONNETS. 321 



THE TOMB OF CHAELEMAGNE. 

Maxara . 
♦ — 

In this funereal Urn thine image trace 

human Pride ! All the hHud world hath sought. 

Its highest glory, this doth now embrace, 

So low was greatness by a moment brought. 

In regal crown and robe, seek with thy thought 

A monarch who hath prouder trophies won, 

On earth more feared, in peace and war who wrought 

A nobler fame by deeds illustrious done. 

Alas ! of aU this glory and this might. 

The fata] stroke but pallid bones hath left 

And a few cold gTey ashes to my sight : 

Of Empire, conquest, sceptre, crown, bereft, 

The king, the chief, a narrow grave contains, 

The Man alone before his God remains. 



322 



SONG OF THE GIPSY. 

Adele Curti. 

- — « — 

My face is dark and lovely too, 

Like to the dying day, 
As when a vapour softly shades 

The moon's transparent ray. 

My hair is of a deep, deep Mack, 

Like fruit of laurel tree, 
IMine eyes are gentle yet austere, 

As love's own charms might be. 

I fi'om a Fairy had my birth, 

Her element was fire. 
And one who o'er Granada reigned 

Loved her, and was mv Sire. 



SONG OF THE GIPSY. 323 

My food hath been the morning dew, 

My cradle flowers fair ; 
I for my robe of splendour wore 

A cloud of lightness rare. 



I walked on Ether's calm blue sea 

Through Infinite afar, 
And with the joyful Zephyr went 

To hail my own bright star. 



With flattering smile she fondly looked 

On me, that star of mine ; 
Hers is the purest flame of all 

That in the heavens shine. 



The desert plains of arid sand 

My traces often show, 
And they are left on mountain height 

Amid eternal snow. 



324 FROM THE ITALIAN. 

Spirits unknown a power gave 
To me in earth and sky, 

A power of peace as well as war, 
That whirlwinds can defy. 



When dawn makes rosy the pure air 

Of gently opening day, 
I fly rejoicing in the midst 

Of that so blessed ray. 



Thence I descend and questions ask 
Of pallid shades beneath. 

And in the horror of the grave 
Sad phantoms raise of death. 



I seek for the verbena plant. 

Sacred to mystery. 
The magic herb for grief concealed, 

And thoughts of secrecy. 



SONG- OF THE GIPSY. 325 

In the events of future life 

I read joy, anger, pain, 
And the veiled book of what is past 

To all I can explain. 



Philters I give, bear friendship's vows, 
And vows of faithful love ; 

Justice is mine for the oppressed, 
Who scoffs and insult prove. 

I have a proud and burning heart, 

A love unequalled, deep, 
A hatred too, immense and fierce, — 

A dagger's blade I keep ! 



326 



PLACK EYES AND BLUE. 

Bertola. 



Contention rose for Beauty's prize. 
Claimed both by black and azure eyes. — 
" Scornful and proud black eyes appear." — 
" But azure eyes are not sincere." — 
" Black is a mournful, gloomy hue." — 
■•' Inconstant are the eyes of blue." — 
'-' We picture heaven visibly." — 
•' Torches beneath a veil are we." — 
" In Juno azure eyes are seen." — 
'•'- And dark brown eyes hath Cyprus' Queen. 
More argument had yet been heard, 
But now between them Love appeared, 



BLACK EYES AND BLUE. 327 

And his decision in the cause 
Still forms apart of Cnidiis' laws ; 
For, by a faithful Shepherd's care, 
These words remain engraven there : 
The rightful claim to Beauty's prize 

No colour can impart, 
But ever loveliest are those eyes 

Which answer to the heart. 



328 



FROM THE SPANISH. 



FLOWEES. 
( With some omissions.) 

Juan Melendez Valdes. 



Delightful flowers, to being rise, 

Adorn the soil that barren lies. 

And lately 'neath the sceptre wept 

Of winter, who stern empire kept. 

Rich Nature will lier varied hues 

Over your bosoms fresh diffuse. 

May laughs, and Zephyr, with caress. 

Already woos your loveliness, 

And frees the struggling bud from clasps that rudely press. 



FLOWEES. 329 



0, Soul of Flora, venture here ! 
Daughters of Spring, appear, appear ! 
Your virgin chalice open leave, 
Aurora's pearly tears receive. ■ 
A sovereign perfume fills the air ; 
The amber fragrance that we breathe 
Is given by the plain beneath ; 
In infinite profusion there 
Your colours court the admiring sight : 
No painter ever gave those colours bright. 
To form you. Art and Nature joined, 
And in your charms are both combined. 
Alas ! how soon declines your fair estate, 

True image of Man's fate ! 
But, if the summer's fervent glow 

Must dim your beauty gay. 
From shadowy sepulchre below 
Deliverance will come with May, 

And you are born anew to reign. 
Jasmine ! thus thy living snow 

Will soon return again, 



330 FEOM THE SPANISH, 

And tliou amid thy branches gi'een wilt sHne, 

And with sweet fragrance call 

The youthful maidens all, 
Thy flowers to pluck, and round their temples twine. 

In purple the Dianthus dyed, 
On flexile stem her form uprears. 

Unveils her beauty in its pride, 
And in her globe of fire appears. 

As though for Flora and for Love a throne : 
Till placed upon some snowy breast, 
Withered and sad, her head deprest, 

The circle of her fall-leaved pomp shrinks, and is gone. 
The Violet in valley lost 

Her beauty timidly conceals. 
But murmuring Air her fragTance brings. 
With it imbues his errant wings. 
And, where her beauty lies, reveals. 
The Tulip, deemed our garden's boast, 
Lifts up his head with proud sm'prise 
Mid common flowers that round him rise : 
A thousand showy zones he bears 



FLOWEES. 331 



And gorgeous Tyrian hues he wears, 
That broider his gay livery. 
Alas ! that Flora perfume should deny ! 
Thou virgin flower, whom robes of snow 

With innocence enfold, 
And in whose fretted calyx glow 

Pure gems of orient gold ; 
With coronal where sunbeams rest, 
Eich incense breathing, love-carest. 
While butterflies around thee play. 
And in fond circles wing their way — 
Lily, thine would empire be. 
But for the Rose, which still surpasses thee ! 
While yet her fleeting beauties stay, 
They open to the opening day, 
As, bathed in purple dew, 
She raises up her bloom of matchless hue. 
Apollo kindles her with flame benign ; 
And, Cytherea, the bright blood was thine, 
Which her pale beauty in pure crimson dyed, 
Left by thy steps when wounded by a thorn, 



332 FEOM THE SPANISH. 

While hastening to thy dear Adonis's side, 

Who was from life in that sad moment torn. 
Gathered by Love in Cnidus' bower, 
The Rose, his chosen flower. 

That garland formed, enwreathed on Psyche's head, . 
And o'er her nuptial couch soft fragrance shed. 
Hail, Eose ! the Queen of Flowers and charm of May, 
The treasure given by Aurora's tears ! 
Go, meet my Shepherdess who now appears, 
And humbly to her beauty homage pay. 



SOKNETS. 333 



ON DELIVERANCE FROM A VIOLENT DEATH. 

LUPERCIO DE ARGENSOLA.. 



The grief, the anguish which my heart opprest, 

Even in the hand of barbarous violence 

Averted from me the sharp knife ; suspense 

Was over, wrath by clemency represt. 

Oh who hath ever diamond shield possest 

Which could oppose so firmly all offence 

As the pure soul of guileless innocence, 

Which to the victor offers the bare breast ? 

I saw, I saw the eyes, it is no lie. 

That menaced death, with gentleness upon 

My features gazing, view my misery ; 

And holy pity then appear alone, 

All clouds dispersing from their tranquil sky ; 

For all is easy that in faith is done. 



334 FROM THE SPANISH. 



FATHEK OF ALL. 

Bartolome de Argensola, 



" Father of all, oh say, since Thou art just. 
Why give permission by thy Providence 
That Fraud should drag to prison Linocence 
And thus ascend the judgment-seat august ? 
Who renders strong the vigorous arm, robust 
In opposition to thy laws ? and whence 
Comes it that he who yields them reverence 
Before the unrighteous victor groans in dust ? 
We see base hands wave the victorious palm. 
And Virtue groan at joyful triumphs, led 
By unjust men, whom no restraint controls." 
I spoke thus, when aj)peared to me a calm 
And smiling Angel, who unto me said 
" Blind one, is earth the centre then of Souls ?" 



335 



FROM THE PORTUGUESE. 



OF CATHARINA DE ATAIDE. 

XXXIV. 

Camoens. 

When the sun, covered by a cloudy sky, 
Shews of his splendour but a doubtful trace, 
Along a green delightful shore I pace, 
Imagining my beauteous enemy. 
Here was she ordering her hair, I sigh. 
There leaning on her hand her lovely face ; 
Now still, now walking, ever with fresh grace ; 
Here speaking gaily, and there thoughtfully. 
Here was she seated, there on me she cast 
Those eyes from evil pure ; here feeling showed, 
There unconcern. Thus, varying in her mood. 
Here was she sad, there laughed : and so at last. 
Amid these weary thoughts on her bestowed, 
I pass this life, that never will be past. 



336 FEOM THE POETUGUESE. 



CATHAEINA DE ATAIDE. 

XXXY. 



Camoens. 



A movement of the eyes soft * charming, kind, 

And, hardly knowing why, compassionate ; 

A gentle smile and chaste, as by the mind 

Almost enforced ; an aspect lowly, sweet, 

Doubtful of any joy ; a bashful au' ; 

A look of goodness pure that token shows 

Of gTacious soul, so limpid and so fair ; 

A modest and a very grave repose ; 

A fear though not in fault, an aii' serene ; 

A timid daring, a soft gentleness ; 

A long, obedient patience ; this hath wrought 

The heavenly beauty in my Circe seen, 

The elixk magical, which could no less 

Than poisoned di^aught transform my very thought. 



SONNETS. 



337 



TO CATHATtlNA DE ATATDE. 

xc. 

Camoens. 

The perfectness, the grace in you exprest, 

The gesture sweet, the Spring with freshness fraught, 

Which in you ever blooms ; these charms have wrought 

The reasonable thraldom of my breast ; 

That aspect crystalline and pure, where best 

Is seen all loveliness combined ; eyes sought 

By Love, whence he to all his laws hath taught, 

Whose splendour yet by softness is represt ; 

If what I gaze upon thy mind desires 

To view, worthy indeed thyself to see, 

Although evading still to prove Love's fires ; 

So truly shall my heart reflect to thee 

All which within my being thine inspires. 

That what I feel, e'en thou shalt feel with me. 



338 FROM THE PORTUGUESE. 



ON CATHARINA DE ATAIDE, AFTER HER 
DEATH. 

CLXXXVI. 

Camoens. 

— ♦ — 

The eyes whence chaste Love once did purely glow. 
Joyous himself there kindled to behold ; 
The face, where brightly blooming did unfold 
The crimson rose, most lustrous over snow ; 
The hair, of which the sun might envious grow, 
Because his seemed of a less radiant gold ; 
The graceful form and the white hand, to cold 
Unfeeling earth reduced, in earth lie low ! 
That perfect loveliness in tender years, 
Like prematurely gathered fragile flower, 
The cruel hand of Death too soon did blight ; 
How came it, Love died not that very hour ? 
Pitying, not her, removed to brighter spheres, 
But his own self, remaining in dark night. 

THE END. 



NOTES TO TBANSLATIONS 



NOTES TO TRANSLATIONS. 



NOTE I. 

Valhalla — the hall of Odin, where the souls of departed 
warriors were received. 

Odin — All-Father ; the Scandinavian Jupiter. 

Thor — the Scandinavian Hercules. 

Frey — the Sun God. 

Balder — the White God; the god of peace and war, and 
light and summer. 

Frigga — Odin's wife, and the chief goddess. 

Fret A — the Scandinavian Venus ; goddess of beauty. 

Iduna — Goddess of youth, or Scandinavian Hebe. 

Gerda — Daughter of a giant. Her father was Gynir. 
She represented revivifying power, as in Spring. 

Nanna — Daughter of Neps, and wife of Balder. She died 
of grief at Balder's death. 

Hela — (Swed. Hel) — the goddess of the under-world, 
originally considered as dispensing not only death, 
but life ; the mysterious goddess of the earth, who 
being the distributer of blessings and fruitfulness, 
did not act as a destroyer in receiving the dead back 
to her maternal bosom. In later times the fear of 
death attached ideas of horror to her, and her ancient 
attributes disappeared, 

NoRNIR — the Fates, of whom the three principal were 
Urda, Verdandi, and Skuld, i,e., Past, Present, and 
Future. 



NOTES. 

The Asa or tEsir — Odin and Hs descendants, men as well 
as gods. 

Havamal — an Eddaic poem, forming of itself a tolerably 
complete code of Odinic morality. 

NOTE II. 

The Neck — a water spirit. 

The two poems of Miss Bremer's which follow " The Water 
Lily," are taken from a German translation of " The 
President's Daughters," and I have not been able to 
procure the original Swedish in time to test their 
correctness. I may however find no reason to alter 
them when I have the opportunity of comparing 
them with the original. 

NOTE III. 

The Ideal. The first line of Mr. Merivale's translation 
and of mine are the same, both being word for word 
the literal rendering of the German. 

'• So willst du treulos von mir scheiden" 
" Thus wilt thou, faithless, from me sever" 

And this identity of expression occurs again in 

The Sharing of the Earth. 

" Ich war, sprach der Poet, bei dir." 
" I was, the Poet said, with thee." 



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